Epithalamium
by I Got Tired of Waiting
Summary: COMPLETE :: SLASH :: Book 03 of Hiding Under The Ninth Earth :: Weddings are supposed to be fun and games... right? Well, they might be... until people start meddling with them. A story of testing the limits of love. :: Edited to M rating for FFnet
1. Part I : Prologue

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part I : Into Every Life a Little Strain Must Fall  
**Chapter None : Introduction**

**"Epithalamium"**, which follows this Introduction is Book Three of _"Hiding Under the Ninth Earth"_ and is the story of Harry and Severus' marriage--before and after. It is a story of testing the limits of love, not only between the two of them, but between others in their lives as well.

While this is a "happy" story about a "happy" event, with a "happy" ending (of sorts), it is, in fact, a serious story with dark undercurrents. Normally, I do not like to give the plot away before we even get started, but there are some warnings needed. This story contains: Campy Humour, Suspense, Graphic Torture, Violence, and of course, some Sap--lovely, lovely Sap. Oh, and some Mild Het as well as Steamy Gratuitous Slash.

**However, having said that, this version is edited to "R" for The full version is available on my homepage (18 and older only, please).**

Oh, and pay attention to the dates. The Prologue happens in the 'middle'--everything else is fairly linear.

* * *

**Obligatory Disclaimer** : The characters belong to JK Rowling (although I don't think she quite saw them in this way) without permission and without malice. While I wish I could make money off of it, none is being earned and this piece is strictly for entertainment purposes; suing me would be pointless as I have no assets except my mind and I dare you to try and get it. 

_**There are not words enough to sing the praises of the ever-faithful, unsung Beta Readers:**_  
**Lydia Lovestruck** : Goddess of Grounding Reality : Grand Pubah of ass-kicking (mainly mine) : Muse Extraordinaire : Keeper of the Faith :: **Delphi** : Goddess of Positive Feedback : Poetess and Latin Scholar : Keeper of the OC and Britspeak :: **Aseneth** : Goddess of 'Black' Humour (Siriusly!) : Quill and Red Ink Champion : Keeper of the Carduseus :: **Jessika-chan** : Queen of "Ewwww" : Keeper of the Good Humour :: **Jiltanith** : Queen of Questions (who keeps me honest) :: **Margaret** : Grammar Queen (who knocks me on the head with her sceptre) :: **HaldolPOIM** : The Love God (practice, practice, practice) :: **Rainyshiny** : The Boredom Baroness (who only gets to read the PG-13 parts).

I am the luckiest of women.

**Dedication** : This story is dedicated to 'The Boys', a pair of mahu friends of mine who helped with my research into gay monogamous relationships and who, if the laws would only permit it, would like nothing more than to marry each other after twenty years together. However, due to the cruel irony of bad blood in a transfusion, one of them will not live long enough to see it happen. Thank you, my friends.

Are you still here? Go. Go now. Enjoy!

I Got Tired of Waiting

* * *

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part I : Into Every Life a Little Strain Must Fall  
**Chapter One : Prologue**

**13 September 2003**

After watching Pigwidgeon make his frenzied flight out of the window, Harry read the note on the rolled parchment he'd finally managed to coax off of the annoying little bird.

_Dear Harry,_

_I got your Owl. Don't panic! It's really not as hard as you might think. I'll be by in a couple of days--Poppy Owled me, too--I'll bring by some books of poems and such to help you get the idea. In the meantime, I did a little research on the different kinds of exchanges--did you say you were using the Standard or the Closed Form? Anyway, let me know and I'll do what I can to help. Which isn't much, I'm afraid; you have to write this on your own, in your own words. The books can only give you an idea. See you later._

_Love, Hermione_

He skipped over the dictionary entry with which she'd started the letter; it was too complicated. He snorted when he read the title of the other notes she'd made. He'd already read the book she referenced, twice, but was curious what would capture her attention.

* * *

Notes from **"A Common Wizard's Common Language Guide to Common Law"**  
by _Shylock Sterling, Esq._

_Chapter 69 : Now What Would They Want to Do That For?_

_...All Marriages are defined as the magical joining of two people within a framework of witnessed vows of varying depth and endurance as agreed upon; they can be classified fairly easily as either Involuntary or Voluntary. Both parties in a marriage must be above the age of consent for it to be binding. It is assumed, unless there is a written contract to the contrary, that all marriages are intended for life..._

_...The **Involuntary Marriage** is pretty self-explanatory: Mum and Dad just found you the perfect spouse--for them. Whether for business alliances or bloodlines, the arranged marriage is probably the oldest tradition in the Wizarding World second only to wands and wooden stakes. It's really simple--they pick the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with..._

Harry thought of all of his acquaintances now married with people they'd not chosen. Maybe he was just too Muggle--it seemed pretty barbaric to him.

_Here's how it works:_

_...If you've been pledged before birth, you're really stuck--there is absolutely no way to get out of it--but don't despair--these things are only done to fulfill destinies, prophesies, and such; chances are you'll really like your future mate..._

Harry sighed, thinking of the Prophecy and was glad it had not required a binding of some kind. He read on.

_...If they find you a partner while you're a baby up to the age of 14, you don't get much of a choice in the matter unless the families have a falling-out or you're really good at talking them out of it. The law assumes you had enough time to make peace with your future partner and whinging about it two weeks before the wedding is no excuse not to tie the knot..._

_...If they choose your new partner when you're 15 to 16, then you have some say in that you don't have to sign the contract if you don't want to. Of course, Mum and Dad, over the centuries, have worked out some pretty clever work-arounds for this little loophole including (but not limited to) disinheritance, breaking your wand, throwing your sorry arse out of the house, or threatening to kill the one you really fell in love with; contracts of this nature are rarely broken..._

Severus had broken one and had one broken for him. Harry wondered how accurate this book really was. He personally knew a couple of people who had refused to sign and they were still around. Although, Severus' father _did_ break his wand and disown him. Not that it had mattered in the long run; his father had died before his mother and she had reinstated him a few years later.

_...To make it sweeter, the girl's family pays the bloke's family to take her. The higher the dowry, the uglier--er--less desirable she (or an alliance) is likely to be. Weigh the choices carefully and check to see how many times she's been offered--remember, you might be able to get more money, property, or concessions out of them if they're really desperate..._

Harry smirked, thinking of Pansy's mother. According to Severus, there were times when even a dowry wasn't enough.

_...**Voluntary Marriages** are entered into when you either have managed to remain single long enough to reach the age of consent without a future mate or you have indulgent parents who want a "love-match" with little regard to bloodlines and/or alliances... You don't need your Mum and Dad, although again they've worked out some spectacular work-arounds should you choose to not consult them about your choice of life partner..._

Most of his Gryffindor friends, especially Ron and Hermione, came to mind. Once the war was over, everyone had been fairly relaxed about this sort of thing, not that he could see Molly and Arthur arranging anything but love-matches for their children.

_The types of marriage come in a few different Forms based on the promises made and depth of the magic involved..._

_...The easiest marriage to break is the **Open Form**. The promise you make is that as long as you live together, you both equally share the bills; if there are any children, you are reasonably sure they are your spouse's, but you reserve judgement, and that if you break up whoever has the most money gets the kids while whoever has the least gets the possessions. While rare, this marriage form ensures any children are legitimate; there is no magic involved, so it is considered safe for all Muggles and Squibs..._

Harry wondered about Perrin's mother and realised that Tony had violated the law as had Perrin's father when they'd not revealed they were wizards. He shrugged. Perhaps they went through a Muggle marriage instead?

_...Almost all Arranged marriages and over half of the Voluntary use the **Standard Form**, which is a medium binding, only needs to be performed once, is reasonably secure against poachers, and for whatever terms are set in a contract, is breakable at a specified time or under specified conditions. While minimal, there is magic involved, so full disclosure to Muggles is required. The Standard Form is popular among those involved in Arranged Marriages as it does not preclude having lovers on the side if the match proves less than satisfactory..._

He knew Ron and Hermione had gone through a Standard Form. Although it had meant nothing at the time when he'd stood with them, he now saw why the _Sanos_ binding he'd had to do when he healed Ron had been so hard for him to take; they'd had a minimal binding to begin with and he suspected that was because of Ron. While he'd always appeared to be the most open of the three, in reality he'd always been the most private, rarely revealing his inner emotions. The small disagreements he and Hermione had had at their engagement concerning the Form made a strange sort of sense.

_...The strictest marriage is the **Closed Form**. While not rare, its use is decreasing because once the vows are spoken in front of the community, there is no way to revoke nor to "escape them". Deep magic is used and some bound in this manner have reported shared thoughts as well as shared emotions and in a few rare instances, shared magic. Not a binding for the timid..._

No, not for the timid, indeed.

* * *

**22 October 2003**

Sitting at a borrowed desk in a purloined, deserted classroom at Hogwarts, Harry was desperately trying to follow the advice given to him by the only two people in his life (other than Severus) he would trust with his real thoughts and dreams. Here it was, two days before the wedding and he was still stuck on two of the verses of his Epithalamium--his past and his present. His frustration level was high as he'd been working steadily on this for over a month. "Damn things are just not cooperating," he growled.

Cerise looked up from the book hovering in front of her painting, the pages spelled to turn when she told them to. "Pardon? Did you say something? I'm sorry, I was reading this little book of erotica Hermione left you. It's supremely amusing."

Not turning, he replied, "No, Cerise. I was merely 'talking' to myself."

She eyed all the balls of paper on the floor, some exploded into fine confetti from his bursts of frustration. "Are you sure? It looks like you're trying to recarpet the floor."

He turned in his chair to look at her full on. "Cerise, do you know the finer points of the _Desinum_ spell?" At the shake of her head, he smiled evilly. "I can acquaint you with them, if you'd like."

She laughed, low and throaty. "Oh, _that_. Phineas told me about Severus' and Albus' threats. They actually had him quaking in his little painted boots. Well, at least until I told him they would never really do it."

His eyes narrowing, he asked, "What makes you so sure?"

"What, and miss one moment of his delightful repartee? Fie, you all enjoy him and his off-colour humour too much."

"Off-colour? Biting is more like it. Well, maybe to _you_, it's 'off'." He shook his head at the fatuous look on her face. "What _do_ you see in him?"

She shrugged. "What do you see in Severus? They're both cut from the same cloth."

"Not even close, Cerise. For one, Severus is much more handsome; for another, Severus is certainly funnier than Phineas."

"Funnier? Now, _that's_ an odd choice of words to use for Severus. While he does have his moments, his 'commentary' on the unfairness of life in general can be a bit tedious at times." She snorted. "Phineas takes a longer view of things--he is much older by far, and just because he's a painting doesn't mean that he can't continue to see the irony of life."

"Perhaps, but that doesn't mean they're both 'cut from the same cloth', as you say. They are definitely very different. Severus' humour is more subtle and is intended to amuse only him--well, and me, too, when he's talking about something only the two of us know. He's not particularily concerned if others catch it. Phineas, on the other hand, tries too hard to be the comic relief of the portrait gallery."

Cerise was a little annoyed and said with a touch of wounded pride, "I said 'the same cloth', Harry, not the same bloody bolt. And they _are_ very much alike; Severus is just younger. You wait--once he gets the same number of years behind him, he won't be able to stop--humour is the only thing really left to old people."

Harry stared at her open-mouthed. "Wait a minute--are you saying that Severus is going to be like Phineas someday?"

"Oh absolutely." She giggled. "Once Severus gains the same perspective on life Phineas does, you'll hardly notice the difference."

Harry swallowed, hard. "That's frightening."

"If you say so. Personally I find it delightful and he's a brilliant kisser." Harry made a moue of distaste, which earned him a chuckle from the sultry beauty. "Speaking of brilliant, what _is_ that book you have?"

Harry picked up the thin volume he'd had opened in front of him. Hermione, of course, had loaded him up on books of love poems; the floor was as much littered with the untidy piles of abandoned verse as much as it was with discarded parchment. "This?" he asked, holding it out. When she nodded, he continued, "Hermione left it," he said, his hand sweeping across the room, "and these others as examples I could use."

Cerise chuckled. "Love poems and erotica, I take it?"

Harry grimaced. "Yeah. She said I couldn't very well write a love poem if I hadn't read any."

Cerise pulled her head back questioningly. "Love poem? Is that what she thinks an Epithalamium is?"

Harry grinned. "Well, she _was_ a Muggle, you know. She looked it up, of course, and told me." He pulled over a single sheet of foolscap and read, "From the Webster's Unabridged Muggle Dictionary--here, I'll skip all the etymology drivel--Epithalamium: a nuptial song or poem in honor or praise of a bride and bridegroom."

Cerise started laughing. "_That_ deserves a toast." Suiting actions to words, she poured a neat finger of firewhiskey in her glass, saying, "To the Bride and Bridegroom," and downed it. Her brow raised, she asked, "You and Severus?" She sat in her chair while Harry laughed with her.

"Well, you remember how _they_ 'wanted' to do this whole thing."

"Oh yes, and white really is your colour, Harry. So virginal. All hail the virgin Harry." She sat back, helpless, while Harry tried not to laugh too much; it had been a close thing for a while. After a few moments and another libation, she asked, "And you told her what it is in the Wizarding world?"

Harry smiled. "Nope, didn't need to--she is self-actualizing, you know. Likes her research. She came to me a couple days later when she brought the rest of the books and told me I was on the 'wrong track', that an Epithalamium really is a," he pulled over another piece of parchment and recited, "from the Webster's Unabridged Wizarding Dictionary. 'Epithalamium: a poem or song used at the five points of the nuptial journey as binding vows in the older marriage Rites...' or something to that effect."

"Can I assume from the debris that you found her 'help' less than helpful?"

"Somewhat. I certainly learned what I _didn't_ want."

"But you kept that one?" she asked, pointing at the book in his hand.

He looked at the open page wistfully. "Yeah, there was something about this one I really liked. Not that I can use any of it--the Epithalamium is supposed to be an original I write--"

"Read it to me. I'm interested in what appeals to you."

Somewhat embarrassed, Harry cleared his throat and began to recite:

_"To the question: And what of marriage?  
by Kahlil Gibran_

_You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.  
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.  
Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.  
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,  
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.  
Love one another but make not a bond of love:  
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.  
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.  
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.  
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone.  
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.  
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping  
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.  
And stand together, yet not too near together:  
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,  
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow."_

He blushed. "Silly, I know, since we're about to be bound as one, but the words--"

"--Are beautiful and very true, Harry. Despite what you young people think, you can't always occupy the same skin. If the two of you don't have things outside of each other to fulfill you, your marriage is doomed from the beginning. And given the type of vows you have chosen to exchange, the resultant unhappiness would be devastating--and forever."

Harry was thoughtful a moment, a frown marring his forehead. "Tell me, Cerise. Why is everyone so surprised when they hear that we are exchanging Closed Form vows? I don't get it, I guess."

She thought about it a moment, she had come at his request to help after all, and asked, "Why did you choose to do it this way?"

Bereft of a clear answer, Harry replied, "I don't know, it just 'felt' right."

"Hmmmm. There are those who would disagree, those who cannot fathom loving someone forever because they can't see that forever is not."

"Huh?" Harry noised, puzzled,

Moving her open hand down the length of her form, she said, "Look at me, Harry. Am I alive?"

"Of course you are." He liked it when she asked easy questions.

"Am I really? Can you touch me?" When Harry made to reply, she said, "Oh, I know Severus holds the secret of touching a painting, a gift I once received with pleasure, but even he cannot hold it for long. And I can touch other portraits, even intimately, and interact with others such as yourself, but the truth is I am dead. My body and soul have passed on into the Hinterlands. I'm not _really_ here, Harry. I am a representation of my former self, accurate only in the memory of the man who made me, Severus. Oh, I have most of my memories--Severus _is_ an exceptionally skilled _Legilimens_--but there are pieces of me I know are missing, many of the bad parts I asked him not to include--there are times I am mystified by my actions because I _do not have all of me to make the choices I do now_. In fact, I am little better than a memoried revenant. I am here because there were those who claimed I had value and wanted a part of me to remain. I was flattered; it was not something I had thought of for myself."

"Do you regret it?" Harry asked, appalled at her words.

"I admit, at first, I resented it. I felt trapped, unlike myself. And I didn't know then what I know now--forever is just a concept. It's not real. Our 'lives' are finite as are any other forms we can take, whether it be on earth, in the Hinterlands, or even as a painting. I may not be alive, but I _am_ here, now, and frankly, Phineas has been more than instrumental in making me see that I still have value, even as I am, and that even if I didn't, it won't be 'forever'." Her voice got very soft. "He gives my life as much meaning as Severus does yours." Her voice brisker, she continued. "As have you and Severus, as well. I now know my place in your lives and--I like it. It's odd being the one with all the answers when I was always the one with all the questions. Which reminds me, _your_ question. I haven't really answered it, have I?"

At the stricken look on his face, she said gently, "Harry, Severus could not have placed me in this painting had I not wanted it. I just wasn't prepared for the implications. No one really can be, you know, but later, after all this is over, I will tell you both as much as I can so you can 'see'. If your futures go the way I think they will, Severus, at least, may not have a choice in the matter and you may want to follow."

Her words filled Harry with hundreds of questions, but before he could ask them, she said, "Now as to the Form, I am assuming you are familiar with all of them?"

Deciding now was probably not the time to pursue it, Harry answered her. "Yes, I think so. Voluntary and Involuntary--that's pretty self-explanatory. We have a Voluntary Form, right?"

"Right, although arranged marriages are more common, especially among the Slytherin."

"What house were you in, Cerise, if I might ask?"

"I was in none. I attended Beauxbatons; we did not have houses, only men and women. I was trained by the Veela. But enough of that--it's a story for another time." She tilted her head. "I am curious, though. Why did you not choose the Standard Form? It is, after all, the most common of the Voluntary Forms."

"I suppose it's because the Open Form and the Standard Form are more about procreation and continuance of bloodlines than they are about affection and commitment, even though Ron and Hermione might disagree. Since Severus and I do not want children, nor (given our 'preferences')," she nodded her head, understanding what he meant by it--their sexual choices--"would we be able to conceive them, so they are not really an option in any event." He hesitated. "It's--I don't know. When Severus and I discussed it, the Closed Form just seemed like the best choice for us. See, we already have some things connecting us--our pasts, our fears, our dreams--those are just the surface. There's a bond between us because of the _Sanos_ magic and we're warded, together by--" His voice trailed off, a light of understanding filling his face.

With an inarticulate cry of triumph, he turned back to the parchment on the table, his quill flying over the surface frantically as he rushed to capture the words flowing freely, rightly, out of his heart.

Cerise just took another sip of the firewhiskey and went back to the truly ridiculous book in front of her, a satisfied smile on her lips.

* * *

TBC 


	2. Part I : Trying Things on For Size

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part One : Into Every Life a Little Strain Must Fall  
**Chapter Two : Trying Things on For Size**

**9 September 2003**

Severus leaned his bare back against Harry's chest, savouring for the moment the slow hand idly tracing the sensitive skin on his upper chest, the other unconsciously rubbing his stomach. It was a pleasant distraction from both the task at hand and the lingering sharp pains in his arse. He closed his mind to the pain and decided the best way to control it was to ignore it, so he concentrated on the slowly moving hands, willing the resultant endorphins from the simple pleasure to help with his discomfort. When relief didn't seem evident, he went back to task, saying, "Let's see. We need at least nine for the ceremony."

Harry, sitting upright and resting easy on the headboard, sighed and shifted slightly to take Severus' weight. Lifting his hand from Severus' belly he started running it through the hair spread on his chest, still fragrant from their bath. Inhaling deeply the balsa scent, he commented, "Well, we have two sets of Weasleys, Moody and Remus, and Sprout and Hagrid, and Poppy. That's the nine we need, right? With us and Dumbledore, that makes an even dozen."

Severus closed his eyes relaxing in pleasure and lazily tapped the feather part of the quill in his left hand thoughtfully on Harry's knee, conveniently close to his side. "Mmmm--feels good." He could feel Harry's chuckle through the back of his head. Not really wanting to continue, he did so anyway if only to get it out of the way. They were on a schedule now. "Perhaps. Do we want to invite those who were so kind as to publish our Banns?"

The hand on Severus' chest hesitated in its stroking a moment before coming to rest right on the 'V' below his neck. "Oh. Good point. You know, that was so clever of Albus to post the Banns in Hana."

Severus laid his head back on Harry's shoulder. Harry took the hint and lightly ran his fingertips over his throat; he could feel the vibrations from Severus' larynx as he said slowly, without rancor, "Sly is more like it. One can always count on Albus to worm his way around any loophole in any law he decides he doesn't want to follow. Devious man."

Smiling, Harry continued his stroking; Severus was all but purring. "Well, it does say that our 'community' can be counted as anywhere one of us owns property in the midst of Wizarding folk. We _do_ have a house and Hana qualifies."

Eyes slitted in pleasure, Severus blindly tossed the quill on the bed tray in front of him and chuckled. "Hmm--I hardly think the 20 or so witches and wizards in Hana count against the thousands in Britain, but who am I to complain when we benefited so greatly from it?" He tilted his head up to look at Harry and was rewarded by a soft lingering kiss.

After stealing a second one, his mind wandering to other things they could be doing, Harry murmured, "Somehow, I think that's the real loophole Albus finds--the sanction of his victims."

Severus snickered. Taking one final kiss, he said, "That's the truth." With a long sigh of resignation, he reluctantly pulled away, sat up and, picking the quill back up again, tapped the parchment sitting on the standing tray across his lap on the bed. "However, back to this list." Harry groaned and echoed his sigh. Severus twisted enough to barely see his almost pouting face out of the corner of his eye. "Later, love. We _have_ to get this done if we don't want the old reprobate to do it for us." With Harry's grunt of acknowledgement accompanied by a terse nod, he continued. "If we add Kalani and Ben, and Malia and Kahealani, that makes thirteen--an odd number at best."

Harry thought on it a moment, shifting restlessly. "Then it seems to me we need to find seventeen and set them up in eight pairs with Poppy in the centre. They seem to be 'falling' that way in any event." With Severus sitting between his out-stretched legs, his choices of position were rather limited. Since he didn't want to move him--Severus had his own issues to deal with and he seemed at least reasonably comfortable this way--Harry bent his right leg, knee upright, in an effort to find a better spot for his own sore arse and back.

Jostled by Harry's movement, Severus set the ink pot firmly in the middle of the tray on top of the parchment he'd been writing on so it wouldn't spill. "Hmm. That's a definite possibility. So who would we want as the other four?"

Harry ventured, "Minerva?"

"Good choice." Adding her name to the list, Severus cast his mind over all the people they knew and with whom they were truly comfortable. It wasn't long. "Anyone else?"

"None come immediately to mind. But we can't just stop at fourteen. If we double some of the spots, we have to double them all, right?"

"Hmm, yes." Severus hesitated. "How about Flitwick? He has proven to be a better friend than I would have ever guessed."

Harry pursed his mouth and nodded. "Flitwick is fine." He trailed his hand down Severus' back, lightly scratching. "Since we seem to be aiming for incongruity, maybe we should pair him with Hagrid." At Severus' wicked chuckle, he added, "Perhaps the last two from the Order?"

"All right. Tonks? Shacklebolt? Mundungus?" At the last, they both laughed, the motion making Harry move against the pillows on which he sat, which made his sore arse ache even more. He shifted again to try and ease the discomfort.

"Harry?" Severus asked, his voice strangled. He was holding onto the shifting bed tray, his hands wrapped around the ink pot and quill.

"Mmph?" he queried trying to find another new spot to sit.

"Will you _please_ stop squirming? While this position is about as good as it gets, it's still uncomfortable and your constant shifting is--distracting, not to mention potentially messy."

Harry found a good spot and sighed with relief from the painful pressure. "Hmmm. Sorry, I'll try to sit still." Noting how stiff and straight Severus' shoulders were getting, Harry leaned forward, ignoring his own recent problem, and put his hands on them to lightly knead the knots he could feel under his fingertips.

Once again, Harry wished there was something he could do to help; he'd tried this morning when his healing senses had honed in on the sharp pains Severus had experienced upon awakening, but he'd quickly found the nerves were permanently damaged, both outside and inside; there was nothing he could do to stop them from misfiring, nor could he deaden them without causing his intended some real problems. Resigned, Severus had told him it happened every now and again and had for years, but Harry couldn't help wondering if his own recent injuries hadn't triggered it through their new bonds. Regardless of what had caused it, Harry was once again reminded why their 'decision' was a sound one. He didn't even want to think about _how_ Severus had been injured this way in the first place.

Severus dropped his chin on his chest, willing his body to relax. Harry's hands were certainly helping and he grunted when he found an exceptionally tight spot. Sniffing, Severus continued, his voice muffled. "Shacklebolt seems to be the best of the lot."

Harry's hands stilled a moment and then resumed their ministrations. "Do we really want to include someone who's 'the best of the lot'?"

Chuckling, Severus said, "Well, we could invite Filch and Mrs. Norris if that makes you feel better."

Harry snorted, laughing. "Would they count as two?"

"If animals were allowed as witnesses, we'd be better off with Horatio. At least _you_ know what he's saying. You could be a translator."

"Hardly. 'I represssentsss the sssouth'," he lisped. "Sounds like a drunk Frenchman. No, Shacklebolt is a good choice now that I think on it. He's always been in the thick of things and stood by our side more times than I want to think on." At the scratch of Severus' quill as he added the name to the list, Harry went on. "Tonks? I don't know. As much as I like her, I really don't know her all that well." Severus had started stroking the top of his foot, one of his favourite spots--he'd even permanently depilated them to rid himself of the 'pelt' there he'd always hated. Thinking that more was better, he'd tried shaving his legs once, but Severus had said that while the 'Hobbit fur' missing from his feet was an improvement, he really preferred the rest of him hairy.

"Hmph. I have to agree." Thinking hard, he placed the quill back on the tray and dropped his hand to unconsciously swirl the thick hair on Harry's knee and calf next to his thigh while the other continued to lightly stroke Harry's toes. Quietly he mused, "Someone either one of us knows well." He closed his eyes, content with the gentle hands on his neck and shoulders and back. Harry's back rubs were to be savoured, not squandered. He rested his hands where they were and just let himself relax into it. A few minutes later, almost limp, he asked quietly, "What about Quiesta?"

Harry's hands stopped a moment, and he smiled at the disappointed noise Severus made when he did so. Resuming, his hands sliding into Severus' hair, he said, "Quiesta? You wouldn't mind?"

Shivering slightly at Harry's light touch, Severus replied without irony, "No, as a missing link to an important part of your life, I think she would be a good choice."

Harry thought about it. "If you're sure you don't mind--perhaps she could stand with Shacklebolt to represent the community? One for our past work, the other for our future?"

"That would be appropriate. Minerva could stand with Pomona to represent our present endeavors."

"That sounds 'right'. We're done with the guest list?" At Severus' nod, Harry said, "Well, that was easier than I thought it would be. Seventeen it is?"

"Plus Albus as officiator and us makes twenty. An odd number to be sure, but there's no helping it." A sudden, unexpectedly sharp pain lanced through him from his groin and he growled.

Harry immediately pulled him back against him and held him close while he rode out the pain, the shift in position helping Severus as much as Harry's fingertips massaging his temples. When he sensed it lessening, he said softly, "I'm so sorry, Severus. How's your bum?"

Sweating, Severus replied, huffing, "As good as it ever is when it gets like this."

Harry leaned over and kissed his temple, smoothing the damp hair from his face. "I know it hurts, can feel it, but unfortunately there's nothing I can do to help; the nerves are too damaged."

Severus let Harry take his weight for a moment, accepting the sympathy and comfort Harry was trying to give him. It was odd having someone share this with him. While it had bothered him many times in the past, he'd always hidden it from his lover, ashamed of not only the pain, but also of the memories it inevitably brought of how he'd got the injuries. Harry sensing it this morning had been a new, unwelcome thing, and he'd tried to minimize it, but Harry was not buying his explanations. Pain in the arse, it was, having a healer in his bed. He snorted at the inadvertent pun. "I know, most inconvenient and infinitely boring, but I'd always known there was nothing to be done for it when even my pain potions never worked." He raised his head and kissed right under Harry's jaw in apology for his petulant tone and murmured, "However, thank you for trying. Fortunately, it doesn't happen all that often."

"Liar." Harry dipped his head and gave him a serious kiss. Pulling back a little to look in Severus' eyes, he muttered, "You can't hide this type of thing from me anymore, Severus. I know what I found, and I know what it means." He laughed lightly. "Sorry, you're stuck with me now."

Chuckling, lost in Harry's gaze, Severus retorted softly, "Such a burden. Will I ever survive?"

Smiling, Harry replied, "Probably, but plan for a little more distress in the future. I _know_ how much you _love_ to share."

Giving Harry one last kiss, the pain faded to a dull ache; Severus sat back up and adjusted the tray which had tilted a bit at his movements. "We really need to finish this. I know it's a right pain in the arse--" He paused at Harry's snicker, and muttered, "Good gads, I'm marrying a comedian." Harry smacked him lightly in the ribs. Severus shook his head, saying, "So it was a poor choice of words--" Harry tickled his ribs. He squirmed away from his hand. "All right, a _very_ poor choice of words. Stop that! We have to get this done for Albus tomorrow and I for one, do _not_ want to have to explain to him why he can't read the list for the ink smeared half-way across the page."

Only half-contrite, Harry asked, "What else is there for us to do?" He pulled over a thick volume and propped it up against Severus' back so he could read from it. "Let's see what Shylock has to say about it."

"It's too bad that shyster's book is the only one available one can actually read awake."

Ignoring his grousing, Harry flipped to the bookmark he'd left to mark the appropriate place. "Ah, Chapter 69. I wonder if that was intentional?"

"What? The Chapter number? Potter, you have a dirty mind."

"Oh, and you're complaining? A little _Quid Pro Quid_ has always been _your_ preference, although I admit, last night was a bit 'different'."

"Just read the damn thing!"

Settling back against the headboard and adjusting his bum on the pillows, Harry said, "Hmmm. Closed Form. Let's see--free consent to the binding? Check." He ticked the points off on his hand. "Consent of the community with four Banns posted before the ceremony." He chuckled, again admiring the twisted mind of the Headmaster. "Check. Handfasting trial of more than 60 days." He clicked his tongue against his palate. "Check, although we barely make the 60 days. You know it bothers me that we won't know until after most of the ceremony is finished whether the binding will be finally permitted. You'd think we could prove the bond before we waste everyone's time."

"Worried?"

Harry set the book aside before replying, "Not really--it's just the handfasting has been--not--what I thought it would be." At the sudden hunching of Severus' shoulders, Harry scooted closer and started rubbing them to ease the tension he'd caused with his thoughtless words. When would he learn that Severus _listened_ to everything he said and sometimes to what he'd not spoken out loud? "That's not what I meant, Severus. I have found it interesting, not obtrusive in the least--you have a very 'illuminating' brand of mental humour I wasn't expecting and while the bond has been strong at times, it has been easier to master than I thought it would be." Releasing some of the control he'd been exerting, so they could work this evening, Harry sent Severus a picture of him on his hands and knees in penitent rags looking under the bed. "I just can't always find the right words to tell you what I mean even when they're right under me."

Smirking, Severus indulged his quirky humour and sent back Harry's picture only with himself leaning over the edge of the bed admiring the view while one hand fondled the, now bare, delectable bits of Harry sticking furthest up in the air. He was rewarded by Harry's bark of laughter and seductive, "Anytime, Sev." Severus just shook his head, more relaxed than he'd been with Harry's comment. He kept forgetting that Harry usually spoke the first words in his head and rarely meant anything bad by them.

Relieved that Severus was all right now, Harry stretched and yawned hugely; his arms, hands joined over his head, cracked as the joints popped. Severus winced and watched, fascinated, as Harry's legs seemed to lengthen as he tightened and loosened the muscles there. It was most erotic and he felt the tightening as Harry's legs gripped him hard. He was instantly aware of Harry's groin against his arse, the hardening length against the small of his back a welcome, but untimely, distraction of its own. "Down boy. Just a few minutes more and then we can set this aside. You were saying?"

Shifting to put some air between them, Harry ruefully continued. "If you insist, spoil-sport. Where was I? Oh yes, we now have the guest list, Poppy and 'The Girls' are working on the other bits of the ceremony, and we've registered our intent with the Ministry--that was quite a trip, wasn't it?"

"What I want to do everyday--converse with bug-eyed, bureaucratic, toadies. He pitched his voice higher. "'Y-You w-want t-to g-get m-m-married, s-s-ir?'," he stuttered. "If he'd asked us one more time about 'children', I was thinking about showing him how it was done. I certainly hope he's as discreet as Albus says he is."

"Oh, I don't see why not. He's all right--a Gryffindor a few years ahead of me. He was just scared spitless of his mean old nasty professor."

That reminded him. Severus grimaced; he'd forgot something they needed to discuss. Keeping it light, he drawled, "Hmph. Speaking of the 'greasy git', the Potions Master 'Snape' wants to know what name the Healer 'Potter' wants to take. We have to change them, you know."

Harry put his hand on Severus' shoulder, leaning forward. "Oh, Merlin. You're joking, right?"

Severus sighed heavily. "I wish I was, Harry. We got an Owl this morning, with the partially executed paperwork, saying that it was the last blank we needed to fill in--we have two weeks to decide. Your good fortune extended to you not being here when it arrived. I think I scared a life out of Cally." He shifted and tensed as another wave of pain washed over him.

"Come here," Harry said, pulling Severus back against him. The ache, which had been steadily growing worse even though he'd been trying to ignore it, eased off when his weight shifted. They sat there, both comfortable, Harry with his arms wrapped around Severus' chest while Severus idly stroked Harry's legs. They were 'together' for the moment.

Harry drew breath and said quietly, "This is most unfortunate. I'd hoped we could keep our respective names and that Albus would once again find another loophole."

Severus chuckled mirthlessly. "You are assuming of course that he really wanted it in the first place. For all we know the blighter might have pointed it out to them."

"Why would he do that? And why can't it be done? Poppy kept her name."

"No, actually she didn't. Pomfrey may be her maiden name, but its use is a convention. Her name is legally Poppy Dumbledore. I saw something on Albus' desk the other day with her name on it. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he left it there on purpose to give me some advance warning, but of course, I didn't think of it that way at the time."

"Sneaky bugger." Harry thought about it. "I suspect your ancestors would take a spin and come back to haunt us if we changed your name to 'Potter'. Sever-us Pot-ter. Hmmm. Sounds like the name of a guillotine."

"It's not even worth considering, nor is 'Harry Snape'--" Severus shuddered, "--sounds like some kind of lesbian thing."

"Or I could just call you 'Daddy'," Harry snickered, "you know how they say incest is best."

Severus was about to make a comment that he was _not_ old enough to be Harry's father, but stopped himself in time when he realised he was. With a mental 'Ouch,' he asked, "How about Harry and Severus Potter-Snape?"

Harry laughed. "I'm starting to feel like one of those love-sick girls who used to write their prospective names in their notebooks in Binn's class or while studying in the library. You know, like 'Pansy Malfoy' or 'Ginny Longbottom' doodled in coloured ink in the margins, complete with pictures. Ginny could make hers move with these little exploding hearts--like fireworks. It was kind of cute."

Severus raised a brow. "That's--disturbing. Why would they do that?"

"You know, to try it on for size, see how it sounded. Almost every girl did it. Even Hermione--she tried Weasley on for size in our sixth year."

Severus turned slightly to face him. "What? No Hermione Potter?"

"Nah, she worked it out before I did. As far as I know, the only two who tried my name on was Cho Chang and Meghan Jones." He sounded almost wistful. "Cho cried it out; Meghan inked it out almost as fast as she wrote it."  
  
"Hmmm? 'The' Hufflepuff?" Severus was back to writing on the parchment in front of him.

"Yeah, she's the one," Harry answered casually.

When he'd seen what he'd done, Severus snorted and murmured, "Unbelievable. Make that three--all that's missing is the artwork."

Looking over Severus' shoulder, he could see the names they'd just discussed written in a bold flourish along with 'Harry and Severus Snape-Potter' with a star drawn out by the side that Severus had started to fill in with idle decoration. Harry chuckled, kissing his neck. "Ooo. I'm flattered. Did you hear? Severus Snape has a crush on me."

Severus leaned his head back to look up at Harry. "Just because I wrote our names several times on the bottom of the parchment to see how they--this does not mean I 'have a crush on you'. Really, Potter!"

"That's soon to be Snape-Potter, to you." Harry teased.

Rather than give him more fuel, Snape pulled Potter's face down for a sloppy, sideways kiss.

Harry leaned into it, but pulled back almost as quickly, hissing. Severus opened his eyes and, noting his grimace, asked solicitously as he sat up, "Is your bum and back still bothering you?"

"It's all right. I forget about it most of the time, just every now and again, I move just the wrong way and--."

Severus moved one leg enough to face Harry better. His hand cupped his face. "I'm sorry. I guess I got carried away."

Harry turned bright red and looked away. "S'all right. I guess we're just a couple of sorry bums."

Severus laughed appreciatively. "I suppose we are at that, but--" he stopped when he saw the distressed tension in Harry's face "--Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry glanced quickly at him and then looked away just as soon, his hands playing with the hem of Severus' shorts.

"Har-ry. Talk to me," Severus wheedled, taking his hands.

"First time," Harry mumbled.

"First time?" Severus asked. This was as bad as trying to pull a coherent answer out of a first year. "Harry, don't make me 'look', please?"

"Um, well, all right--I've never been rimmed before--and, uh, it felt really good--bloody brilliant, in fact--and then I threw out my back and I didn't want you to feel bad, so--" He stopped when he heard the whine in his voice and noted the incredulous stare on Severus' face.

Severus could accept Harry was embarrassed by his departure from their normal routine, but couldn't understand why he would be 'upset' by it. Thinking that perhaps it was something else, he asked, concerned, "I can see you're still sore, but that's not what this is all about, is it?"

Harry shook his head, still not looking at him. "No, not really, not about the physical discomfort. I was just curious--was wondering--why?"

"Why? Why I did it?" At Harry's nod, Severus went on, "It just happened--I didn't really think about it." Severus tried to remember exactly what had happened. "You tripped over Cally and fell on the stone floor, and while I made the offer to 'kiss it and make it better' in jest--you smelled so fresh and your skin tasted wonderful and you seemed to like it and--well--" Severus eyed him. He recognized _this_ look; this was Harry unsure of himself. Somehow he'd made Harry doubt himself. After some more thought and a few random pictures floating over to him, he began to suspect why and it bothered him. Finally deciding to tackle it at the heart, he asked, "Is it the rimming that bothered you or that I tried something different?"

Harry hesitated. "Both, sort of," he said quietly. "Oh, the rim job was amazing and quite a surprise, but--sometimes I still feel like you need or want more than I can provide and when you come out of the blue like that--I don't know, it's stupid, really."

"Hmmm. I see." And he did. Turning and sliding his leg back under the tray, Severus laid back to where he had been with his back leaning comfortably against Harry's chest, while commenting, "I'm actually quite content with plain vanilla, although a little 'hot fudge' on the side at times is never remiss. I'm usually more concerned you're going to get bored with me."

At Harry's noise of protest and before he could actually say anything, Severus took Harry's hands and settled them around his torso. Laying his head back on his shoulder, he opened the handfasting bond and his mind fully to him.

Harry went still. The unexpected glimpse of Severus' desires showed him they were simple and strong, not requiring anything elaborate other than it had to be Harry and they had to be close. It had to be sharing and that Severus truly did not have any desire to 'take' him (as they called it) as had his other lovers. He had to admit, being able to 'see' these things went a long way to assuaging his lingering doubts about himself and his abilities to please Severus fully. Like the night after the handfasting. He and Severus had been making love when one or the other, he couldn't remember who--it had all run together by now--had been tempted to take it further. They'd both mutually backed away from the idea when, through the newly opened connection, they'd each seen the memories the other saw when they even thought about it; it had killed the notion immediately and both were reassured their 'decision' was a good one.

Seeing the memory Harry was envisioning through the still open link, Severus now realised that while the incident had upheld their 'decision', it had not quite stopped Harry's insecurity over the matter. Harry might not remember which one of them had brought it up, but Severus had no such problem, and it had not been him. At the time he'd recognized it for what it was--what they were discussing now.

Harry tightened his arms around Severus' chest. "Thank you, Severus--you always seem to know what I need when I need it. I don't know why I keep feeling this way; I should know better by now."

Severus pulled Harry's face to his and they shared a serious kiss, lips and tongues sliding in harmony despite the awkward angle. When they mutually ended it Severus murmured, "Hush. There are two of us now, each with our own 'concerns' and despite the longevity of our relationship, there are still things of which we both are unsure. There's so much of it still new, almost raw; we'll get through it in time. Nothing happens in a day--just always remember, I have no regrets and you are all I ever need. It's not the sex that matters; it is the sharing. And while I enjoy our loving, it's not what I love about you."

Harry nodded and kissed his cheek, pulling him close. They lay like this for some time, neither one much wanting to move, each lost in their own thoughts.

Severus' ruminations led him in a strange direction and, having a sudden insight, he chuckled and sat up, Harry releasing him reluctantly. His voice hinting at mischief, Severus stated, "Besides, while I admit my needs _are_ simple, I must point out that a little healthy variety can't hurt. Last night was never meant to make you feel like I wanted 'more'; however, considering the lifespan of a wizard and our obvious good health due to our respective skills and life style..." He picked up the quill and started scratching on the parchment. Harry leaned forward to see what he was doing and was surprised to see a column of numbers rapidly appearing under the quill. When Severus was finished, he tapped the feather on Harry's leg. Harry could just make out a number on the foolscap.

"Hmmm, an almost daunting amount. Taking into account our declining stamina over the years and assuming no usage of certain potions, I calculate we have at least 65,700 orgasms ahead of us--each, although given your--youth--your number might be higher." He squeezed Harry's thigh. "However shall I cope?"

Harry sat stunned while Severus started laughing. Harry looked at the parchment again, saying, "One and a half times a day? Severus, you never do anything by halves."

Looking back at him, he chuckled. "One never knows what's going to happen in 120 years. A half may be all I'm capable of by then. Are you positive you want to live with such uncertainty?"

"In 120 years, a half may be all I want. Maybe we should start taking a tonic."

"Maybe we should just get started reducing the number." He leaned in for another kiss, this one meant to tease.

Harry just shifted forward and snugly set his groin in Severus' back. He was obviously interested. "Whatever will Albus think when he sees that number on the bottom of the list."

Severus smugly said, "Let him guess." He looked down at the now full page complete with lists, doodles, splotches, smears, and the number. "I have no intention of recopying this neater in order to spare his sensibilities. Might do the old codger good trying to figure it out and if he succeeds, I assure you he will be nothing less than amused."

"Well, if we're both going to fidget and squirm anyway--"

Severus turned his face to him again--"Mmmm hmmm," he murmured stealing a long kiss. "Let the squirming commence--in a moment."

"Huh, Sev? What are you doing? Where are you going? Surely that can wait?

"Mmmm?" Severus asked, getting out of the bed. As he picked up the tray to set it on the floor away from the range of any stray covers or pillows, he sent Harry a picture of what else could smear the parchment and the other 'impressions' that could be left on it should they spill the contents of the tray, and then a picture of Albus' face the next morning when he held the sticky mess by two fingers.

With that image in his head, Harry fell back into the pillows, murmuring, "Never mind. Carry on."

* * *

TBC


	3. Part I : A Compromise

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part One : Into Every Life a Little Strain Must Fall  
**Chapter Three : A Compromise**

**10 September 2003**

"Absolutely not!" Harry exclaimed.

Dumbledore looked up from the parchment he was holding, the quill in his left hand already poised to make a mark next to the name of the next person on his list. "Harry, you can't NOT invite him," he said with mild exasperation.

"I bloody well can," Harry retorted hotly. "Whose wedding is this anyway? I've half a mind to elope."

_I certainly could agree to the half a mind part,_ Dumbledore thought to himself but said, "Harry, you must be reasonable about this. Think about the impact to the school."

"Frankly, Albus, I don't give a fig." He took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. While Dumbledore was annoying at times, he did not deserve to be abused with his anger. He went on in a more respectful, but no less vehement tone, "Fudge is not invited to the wedding, period. After all the grief he has given all of us, especially to Severus, there is no way I want that idiotic, vindictive... _viper_ present on what is supposed to be the happiest day of our lives." He shook his head, his ire rising again. "I don't know why I'm even considering this." He tapped Albus' revised list with his quill. "Severus and I worked hours last evening to determine exactly who was participating in the ceremony. What part of close family and friends did you not understand?"

Albus closed his eyes and silently counted to ten in Greek before opening them, to reply calmly, "I am _not_ taking issue with your fine, thoughtful choices for witnesses. We _are_, instead, discussing the other 'guests'." He held Harry's gaze--fiery green eyes to weary blue ones. He was so tired of all these--these machinations and wished heartily that once, just once, he could get what he needed without an argument. _Oh good gads, I have two of them now,_ Albus thought, reaching for the Tummy-Be-Calm Potion Severus had made up for him last week. He took a short swig straight from the bottle thinking, _I'm truly getting too old for this._

When Harry made no reply and sat sullenly staring at the other parchment, Albus took the opportunity to wait a few moments for the blessed relief to spread through his raging stomach, ruefully thinking that he should have expected this resistance to any changes in their ceremony. Albus was glad for once that Harry's preoccupation with the second list in front of him distracted the boy from noticing the grimace of pain he could not stop from traveling across his face.

Stomach calmer, Dumbledore sighed, saying gently, "Harry, as much as you would like to keep this private, as much as we all would like to ignore the, ah, politics of the situation, you cannot. Like it or not, both you and Severus are a part of the overall Wizarding family. Your names are a part of history; your deeds together have profoundly affected many lives. For the good, to be sure, but done nonetheless. People want to celebrate with you, they want to share with you. Can you truly deny them this, when they stood behind you before?"

Harry's resolve never faltered. "Actually? Yes, I can. The _people_ don't want to celebrate, Albus, they want to gawk. 'Oh look, The-Boy-Who-Lived is co-hab-i-tat-ing with the Evil Nasty Potions Professor; whatever _does_ he see in the Greasy Git.' You know that's what they say, Albus, so don't coat the issue with sweet sentiments and honeyed words."

Dumbledore drew breath to respond, but Harry plowed on. "Ever since Severus and I got together, I have received hundreds of letters from people telling me it's not too late, that there's still a chance for me to be 'normal'. They all have beautiful daughters or, for the more liberal-minded, young handsome sons, extremely interested in sharing my bed, my bloodline, and my bank vault--and not necessarily in that order."

He paused; with a moue of distaste pulling down the corners of his mouth, he went on, "Then there's those who send me dire warnings about being with a former Death Eater and spy." He pitched his voice into a variety of nasal whines. "'Think of your reputation, Mr. Potter.' 'What did the nasty git do to you; surely you can't be with him by choice.' 'You're still ruled by your hormones, Harry, there are others so much more suitable.' 'You can do ever so much better than the likes of him.' 'Have you ever considered counseling, my dear?'" With a shake of his head, the voice low and laced with a sarcasm worthy of his lover, Harry continued, "The words they all use, so delicately couched in 'correct' and 'concerned' terms, bear such hateful messages. And, of course, let's not forget the more honest ones--the Howlers, with their vengeful threats from the Death Eaters themselves against us both, not to mention the lovely 'packages' with their sometimes deadly surprises, and surely we can't ignore the 'legal' Writs and Summons Severus received for daring to 'defile' The Golden Boy. I may have burnt them all, but I have _not_ forgot them."

His eyes hardened, pinning Dumbledore with more than a hint of his inner steel. "In case it has escaped anyone's notice, _I love Severus_. I will NOT see him harmed or shamed or vilified, neither in the name of popularity, nor for the sake of politics, and though I love you both, not even for you, Albus, nor Hogwarts."

Breaking their locked gaze, Dumbledore tiredly dropped the parchment on the desk, laid the quill carefully on a bit of blotting paper, and took off his spectacles, holding them loosely in his hands. He neatly swiveled the chair to face the window, his profile clear to Harry. Leaning back into his chair's leather comfort, his calm eyes gazed at the sight of the sullen moors, while his thoughts ran ahead of the darkening clouds filling the skies.

_'How eloquent my quiet one has become--so much passion Severus has unlocked in him. And so right he is. The 'public' adores him but has not been kind to Severus. Eventually they will reject them both for the very things which make them so strong unless I do something about it now. Such a dilemma in which I find myself. How best to express the concerns I have now when all seems right with the world? Dare I tell him what lies in his future, in their future? Should I reveal why all this is really so important--their joining, the date, the witnesses, even the guests? Is now the time to tell him how hard the going will be? Am I right in keeping it from him? Or is it better to just tell Severus? To let him, once again, keep the secrets for both?'_

While the thoughts chased through his head, he idly noted it was going to rain soon. Finally, with some introspection and regret, Albus fully accepted the burden. _'No, I am afraid it is impossible now to separate them. It is best I continue to bear the burden for the limited time left me. They need this time to grow together, to find their strength in their union. To find the inner core that will support them later. To just be together and build good memories they can fall back on when the new ones are not so pleasant.'_ He smiled to himself thinking of the two of them starting out on their lives, while his was winding down. _'And, of course, to just enjoy them with no shadows darkening their brightness would be a wondrous gift all in itself. After all these years, perhaps I owe myself this one simple pleasure. How easily we forget the quickening of our youth,'_ he mused.

In repose, Harry studied him closely, something he'd never done before because Albus Dumbledore rarely sat still. He noted the deep laugh lines framing his eyes, the seamed, hollowed cheeks, the rest hidden by the pristine white beard. Really seeing him for the first time, Harry couldn't help thinking how old his hands were. His eyes tracked the long, slender fingers sitting quiet in his lap, the crepe skin stretched loosely over sinew and bone clearly defined under the ropy veins tracing the backs of his hands. Oh so fragile, his hands, but in their youth, they would have been as strong and elegant as Severus'. A shiver of cold prescience went up his spine as he realised just how old Albus was; he'd lived over six of Harry's lifetimes. The thought was sobering and, shying away from his ruminations of mortality and loss, he futilely tried to convince himself that Albus would continue on for a few lifetimes more. Dumbledore startled Harry out of his assessment when he murmured, "How easily we forget the quickening of our youth."

Turning his chair with a small squeak, Albus faced Harry once more, his half-moon spectacles effectively hiding most of the careworn lines. His eyes softened as they always did around the boy. _'No, a man now. Not even all that young anymore. Soon to be husband to one of the people I love the most. I still can deny them nothing.'_ He sighed heavily again. "It seems I may owe you yet another apology, Harry. You're right. Your exchange of vows should be private, with only the people you select in attendance." He hesitated a small moment; there was nothing, though, that said he had to make it easy for them. Time to move to Plan 'B'. "However, the demands of the public do not change in the face of privacy. Perhaps I can suggest a compromise?"

Harry was feeling a little shame-faced at his outburst, which was probably why (against his better judgement) he replied, "All right, I'm open to reasonable suggestions, but I can promise you nothing; I'll need to discuss anything you suggest with Severus before we decide."

"Fair enough." The wicked twinkle was back in his eye; getting the fish--er--other party near the line willingly was half the battle. Barely suppressing his mirth, he said, "While I agree the ceremony itself, as well as the usual hijinks afterwards, should remain private, maybe you could allow me to host a more _public_ reception to placate the others who will be offended they were not invited to the nuptials."

Harry gave it due consideration. While it was not a bad proposal, he knew Severus wouldn't be happy about it--parties and large gatherings were definitely not his cuppa, but at least it did leave the more intimate moments out of the public eye--and, hopefully, the newspapers. "When would you want to host such a reception?" Harry asked cautiously.

Albus tilted his head, delighted; the fish was sniffing the bait, time to hook him. "Hmmm. The day after the ceremony, on the 26th?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry frowned, making new lines in his forehead. "Well, that puts a halt to our plans; we'd intended to leave that night for Hana for the rest of the weekend. Severus has to be back on Monday to teach classes, so our time is very limited."

Dumbledore laughed, another, more tempting plan with better bait, at least for the other fish of the pair, starting to form in his mind. "Headmaster's prerogative, Harry. You and Severus attend the reception with _my_ guest list on the 26th, and I'll arrange for a teacher so terrible for Severus' classes the following week, the students will be begging to have him back."

"I didn't know Umbridge knew Potions," Harry chuckled.

Dumbledore laughed heartily. "Oh, the person I have in mind is much worse--he redefines 'curmudgeon'. If Severus should ask, just tell him 'Septimius'. I'd lay even odds it will grab his attention."

Harry considered it. "All right, I'll ask Severus, but if he says 'no', we will need to re-open this discussion." He rose to go to the door. It dawned on him he'd been very rude. With contrition Harry turned back to look at the old man and said, "I'm sorry. You know, I never asked. You will bind us, won't you, Albus?"

Amusement and affection tinged his voice as he replied, "Of course I will, Harry."

* * *

They were relaxing in their quarters that evening with their habitual snifters of brandy before retiring. Arranged comfortably on the sofa in front of the fire, facing each other with only small bits of themselves touching, Harry had started to tell Severus of his conversation with Dumbledore earlier in the day. Severus knew it had been grossly unfair to let Harry go by himself to meet with Albus, but with his afternoon classes and the suspect timing of the appointment, he'd not been able to attend. Harry had been agitated all through dinner and Severus had patiently waited for him to calm down enough to tell him what was amiss. After hearing about the first part of the discussion with Albus and the extra list, he could see why Harry was upset; however, Severus knew that would not stop his scheming mind from seeing the potential in the whole situation.

"You didn't promise him anything, did you?" Severus asked almost frantically.

At the shake of Harry's head and his muttered, "I'm not a total idiot, Sev," he blew a sigh of relief, the hand on his knee all the apology Harry was likely to get.

When Harry didn't look up, Severus clinked his glass to Harry's to get his attention, saying, "I didn't imply nor say you were--the old bugger is quite sneaky." He laughed low when Harry gave him a mock glare and a lop-sided smile. Good, he was already forgiven; he could now turn his consideration to the startling news Harry had brought. "Septimius? Damn, I didn't know he was still alive. He probably taught _Albus_ Potions." Severus smiled evilly. "It might almost be worth it just to have him take over my classes for a week. The little delinquents won't know what rolled over them."

"He's that bad?" Harry asked, intrigued despite his trepidation over the answer; he could feel Severus' glee and was somehow not reassured by it.

Severus chuckled with open malice. "Oh, much worse. A brilliant man; skilled in both alchemy and potions. He worked with Flamel and Albus and has no equal in my profession. Loves detentions, hates students on principle--even those who can keep up with him--Miss Granger would have displeased him. He'll have a field day with this latest batch of inattentive cretins." He rubbed his hands together in open delight. "Hmmm. This bears some thought. It's been years since the classroom and lab have had a thorough cleaning. I suspect he could have it done in the first few days." He chuckled again. "I can see it now--Second Year Gryffindors scrubbing the floors, Seventh Year Slytherins polishing the cauldrons. Oh yes, this has so much promise."

Harry couldn't stop the admiring grin on his face. It had taken him nearly four years to truly comprehend the purposeful thought and creativity Snape put into his constant conflict with the students, although it had taken him less time to understand they'd all heartily deserved it. What they, as students, had seen on the surface had been nothing compared to what went on deeper in Severus' mind. It wasn't that he hated students, per se, it was that he despaired ever finding one with true original thought (and Harry suspected one who could equal him in his constant quest for new discoveries). Whether he consciously intended it or not, he punished them accordingly for their behaviour as sheep and blatant lack of respect. "Severus, you are an evil man."

"Yes, quite," he replied smugly.

Something in the way he had recited Septimius' quaint personality traits made him wonder how well Severus had got along with him. "Did you have problems with him?"

Severus was lost in thought a moment, and Harry caught a surface glimpse of his memories of the then ancient Potions Master. He was a bit non-plussed about the whole thing--this bond, weak as it was, was going to take some time for him to get used to it and the random images that floated across his mind from Severus at the oddest times. It was one thing when Severus _chose_ to let him see what was going on in his head and quite another when it happened by accident. Although, he had to admit, when their emotions ran high it was very hard to control and, in a couple of instances, had proved useful to them both.

Severus came out of his reverie. "Oh yes--but not about my potions work--I rarely did the same assignments as the others in my class; he always set me problems ahead of everyone else. No, with me, he was a prick about everything else. My state of dishabille, the constant bickering with the Gryffindors--hell, I used to get detentions for uneven margins on my papers. See, I really am quite 'gentle' with my students; I only take away House points and give the odd detention--" he paused impatiently when Harry snorted at this and continued on, ignoring him, "--he used to make us clean the stairs right about the time the Gryffindor Quidditch team would be coming in from practice on muddy days."

Harry was sceptical. "You still haven't answered my question. You're all right with it?"

Severus fixed him with an intense, beady gaze Harry hadn't seen directed at him since he was a student; he used to think it was Snape thinking of a reprehensible punishment. Now he knew it was Severus thinking of a suitable, usually scathing, reply. There was a difference, small as it was. "You still haven't told me how much of our souls we have to sell to get something this good." He shook his head. "Surely an appearance at a reception doesn't warrant such a delectable reward."

Harry held his eyes, his own expression neutral as he uttered one word, "Fudge."

"Fudge?" Harry could see Severus visibly holding onto his temper. "As in a chocolate treat or as in Malfoy's 'Performing Pet Poodle', the odious idiot we all love to hate?"

"The latter." He should never have taken Severus to see a Muggle circus.

"Ah, and Albus offers us _just_ Septimius to compensate for allowing Fudge to be seen in our company? This is merely an opening salvo, he can surely do better if he wants it this badly. So tell me, how did you get stuck in the middle?"

"As I was saying, we were going over the guest lists for the exchange of vows. Ours was small, his was huge. He wanted the bloody vulture invited to the ceremony itself, as a 'guest'. He says Fudge may be retired, but he still has a lot of clout." Harry refused the remembered ire rising to the surface.

"And you said...?" Severus watched him closely.

"Absolutely not. Besides what he's done to you, the mere thought of him witnessing something as personal as our wedding was too horrible to contemplate." Harry's queasiness at the thought of some of Albus' preferred 'guests' put him to mind of when Ron had belched slugs after his misfired wand work against Draco in Second Year.

Harry grimaced when he saw the echoing nausea reflected on Severus' face, but the slowly dawning, wicked gleam in his eyes portended something shocking, something Harry knew would be grossly inappropriate; Severus did have a deviant mind at times. "Oh I don't know. I suspect if we were to show Fudge a little tongue at the final kiss, it might give him heart failure and we'd be rid of him forever."

"Severus!" Harry cried, scandalized but secretly amused, the picture of Fudge (in his death throes while Severus kissed Harry with one eye on the spectacle) from Severus coming in all too clear. He had to laugh.

"Oh, all right, I'll behave," Severus said, but Harry could see he was temporising. Suddenly serious, he leant over for a small, lingering kiss to Harry's cheek, his fingers moving his unruly hair out of his face. "In any event, thank you. I truly would not want him there, either." He pulled away, looking at his nails, a deceptively innocent expression covering his face. Until Harry saw the unscrupulous gleam in his eyes. Quite reasonably he said, "Now, let us discuss what we want from Albus--"

TBC


	4. Part I : This is Getting Old

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part One : Into Every Life a Little Strain Must Fall  
**Chapter Four : This is Getting Old**

**11 September 2003**

Dumbledore's office was cheery in the midday sunlight. The sunspot to the left of Severus highlighted the rich colours of the plush rug under his feet, warming the air around it, making the room cosy and luminous.

"Severus, be reasonable." Albus looked pained as he sipped his almost-cold tea. A quick warming spell took care of the chill of it but could do nothing for the knot in his stomach nor for the uncomfortable pressure above it. He almost reached for the potion, but knew Severus would have no difficulty noticing the level was dropping faster than it should.

Severus noted the aborted movement and, having observed several similar motions since he'd arrived, suspected he knew what it meant. He chose to ignore it for the moment as he replied, "I am being reasonable. I've looked at the guest list you propose. There are at dozens on it who, at one time or another, would have paid good money to have front row seats to watch me play 'Spin the Bottle' with the Dementors. Septimius is adequate payment for having to smarm over Fudge, but the others require a separate negotiation. It's not like they're a matched set--although, they are all linked by lips and arses."

Dumbledore almost choked on the last bit, the remark bringing to mind--well, it didn't bear thinking about right now. He knew the worst was coming.

Severus' voiced dropped until there was venom dripping in the honey of his tone. It was his most dangerous voice, one previously reserved for Death Eater meetings and heard by Albus only on the occasion of his informational dalliance with Draco over four years ago. Dumbledore winced as Severus continued, "I am curious, though. Why on the rings of Saturn did you think, in any way, we would accept the presence of the Malfoys?"

He stared at Albus, watching the varying expressions flit across his face. He realised either his ability to read him was improving or else Albus was getting worse at hiding. Putting a few things together, Severus said without preamble, "Let me see the bottle."

Like a reluctant child, Dumbledore put his hand in his desk drawer and pulled out the bottle of the potion Severus had made just last week for him. It was almost empty. Severus raised a brow at the level and sat back in his chair, silent for once, as he let the evidence roll around in his head for a moment. Something was happening here other than the wedding. With his usual irony, he said, "I find myself with something of a conundrum. Should I just refuse to ask you what the problem is and continue setting obstacles to whatever your devious mind has planned and watch you eat your stomach out with the potion? Or should I just accept your guest list at face value, none the wiser, and let your other problems resolve themselves in the way you want? Somehow, neither option is palatable."

Albus' face brightened a bit at the last question.

"Hmmm. I thought so." Severus sighed. Resigned to the inevitable, he said, "Talk to me, Albus. Even with constant indigestion, that potion should have lasted at least a month. Why are you drinking it like water? What has you so upset that your stomach is making more acid than the potion can handle? And have you seen Poppy for it?" Another thought rose to the surface. "No, I suppose you wouldn't have. She'd want to know why and would fuss--"

At Albus' mute acknowledgement, he threw up his hands. "Oh all right, I see your point. Pain in the arse having a healer as a lover, isn't it? I know the feeling well. However, that does not mean you couldn't have Harry look you over, nor does it enlighten me as to the real problem." He waited, silent.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and, since Severus already knew, took a large swig out of the bottle, emptying it. He suppressed the groan of relief as the knots untied and the burning receded, but they did not go away completely. Reluctantly he replied, "There have been rumours of continuing Death Eater activity in central and eastern Europe. As you know, we have been unable to catch more than a fraction of them at any one time. Some of them are acting on their own misplaced agendas, but the ones holding my concern are the cells who have sworn allegiance to Malfoy."

He winced slightly and sighed noisily. "There have also been some substantiated rumours that Lucius and his followers are looking for opportunities to destroy key members of the Order. We've already seen one potential attempt with what they did to Perrin; we should heed this as a good indicator of the ruthlessness with which they will pursue this goal. Your wedding would be the perfect time since it will be one of the rare occurrences where most of the core members will be in one place at a time. At first I'd thought that if we could make the wedding public enough, Lucius would stay away, but Harry was quite eloquent in his refusal."

He took another sip of his tea, the burning in his gut starting again. "I think, if we are creative enough, we can protect the ceremony itself, although I am not happy it is necessary. I still think the public route is the best one. Lucius does not have _that_ many followers yet and a large number of people would stay his hand." A wave of fire passed through his stomach, worse than anything to date and he was helpless to stop his natural reaction to it. The damn thing just never let up and he felt his heart speed up, then skip a beat. Then another. He couldn't get enough air, but this was nothing new; it was just getting most inconvenient and not something he'd wanted to share with anyone. Resigned, he knew it was futile to hope Severus, damn his eyes, would ignore it, or, better yet, have not seen it at all.

His grimace of pain was not lost on Severus, who sat back and waited for it to run its course. Severus felt a frisson of apprehension at Albus' paling face shining with a thin film of sweat. Relieved when it passed and Dumbledore was more relaxed, he stated gently, but implacably, "We'll talk no more of this until you've allowed Harry to give you a check-up and fix whatever is plaguing you. None of this will work, old man, if you are not well and whole and I refuse to be a reason you are ill." He was almost alarmed when Albus nodded and wordlessly agreed.

Severus rose from his chair and, using Dumbledore's fireplace, Floo'd Harry, asking him to join him in the Headmaster's office. Harry took one look at the austere seriousness on his partner's face and told him he'd be there straight away. Putting away the progress notes he'd been writing, a sixth sense made him unconsciously pick up and pocket a small metal ball he sometimes used when he treated patients. He left immediately to go meet Severus and Dumbledore.

* * *

After Severus made a second Floo call to McGonagall to arrange for the rest of his day's classes to go to the library, something he was sure would be most welcome to his students, or at least would be until they saw the price for the missed lesson, he sat back down opposite the Headmaster who was still sitting serenely at his desk.

"There's nothing he can do, you know," Dumbledore calmly told Severus while they were waiting for Harry.

"Oh? And you already know what the problem is?" Severus asked with asperity.

"Of course I do--I'm old," Albus stated with a small twinkle as if this should have been very obvious.

Severus shook his head. "You're not that old--154 if I recall correctly. There have been others living longer than you." And then the thought occurred that few names came immediately to mind. He really did not want to think in this direction.

"Ah yes, but--how is it the Muggles say it? 'It's not the years, it's the mileage'?" He chuckled.

The door chimed and Severus rose to open it. Harry stood there just having come off the moving stair. He searched Severus' face for an instant and, not liking what he saw, he schooled his worried features into a pleasant blank mask. "Hullo, Severus, Albus. What can I do for you?"

Albus eyed his casual clothes of shirt and jeans and realised that somehow Severus had conveyed some kind of urgency to him for him to have left their chambers without his robes. It was urgent, but not for the reasons Severus thought. The stomach problems were the least of his concerns as they were about to discover. He admired Severus' adroit use of blackmail even as he regretted what was about to happen.

All this flashed through his mind before Severus could draw breath to speak and so he beat Severus to comment, "My dear boy, I hope we have not disturbed your work." When Harry waved his hand in dismissal, he continued. "Severus seems to think I need your services for a little tummy trouble I am having and, knowing I do not want to have Poppy fussing over me, suggested I ask you to look at it instead." At the stern look Severus threw him, he sighed, saving Severus the effort of countering him. "Oh all right. He wants you to give me an overall check-up as well." He stuck his tongue out at him--so there!

"As I can't see you volunteering for this, it must have been some spectacular kind of blackmail Severus used," Harry remarked dryly.

Both Severus and Albus laughed. "The truth hurts, old man," Severus choked out.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, still chuckling. "Well, yes, I suppose it does." Another spasm of pain crossed his face.

Harry noted it immediately and felt an urgency to start. He'd become adept at reading pain in patients' body language and knew what was passing through Albus at this moment was more than a tummy ache. Once he saw his face return to normal, he gestured to Albus, saying as if everything was ordinary, "I need you to conjure one of your infamous chairs. Cushy is all right, but I need it to have no back for me to do this in the quickest manner with the most comfort for you. I have no need for one."

Albus wordlessly complied. An armed bench with a thick bottom cushion appeared out of thin air in front of the fire, replacing one of his squashy club chairs that normally sat there. He stood away from his desk, asking, "Do you need for me to disrobe?"

Harry nodded his approval of the bench and said, "No. Unless there is something on the surface I need to see, you may leave them on--but the hat needs to come off." Albus sighed with some relief and, placing his hat on his desk, sat down facing the small fire he had behind the grate.

At the same time, Severus rose to leave, expecting they would want privacy. Albus surprised him by waving his hand. "There is no reason for you to go, Severus. Take the other chair by the fire and make yourself comfortable."

His eyebrows raised, he did as he was asked. He had wanted to stay if only to see for himself what was wrong. Severus knew that had he left, Harry would not tell him unless Dumbledore gave him leave to; Harry took the confidentiality part of his work very seriously and could hold a secret as well as himself. Just another reason he trusted him as he did.

Harry felt the metal ball in his pocket and, mentally shaking his head at his instincts, pulled it out handing it to Dumbledore. "Take this. It's used to focus your attention if the fire proves insufficient for you to do so. I usually work on people who are unconscious," he chuckled, "so I need you to empty your mind as much as possible and keep that magic of yours dormant. If it should get to be too much, I'll bleed some of it off through the ball. It's designed to dissipate magic harmlessly away from both of us."

"Useful toy," Dumbledore said, examining the smooth metal surface of the Snitch-sized sphere in his gnarled hands. Its iridescent surface swirled slowly like green oil in blue water. "I've never seen one before."

"Probably because it's the only one of its kind. A Metallurgy Alchemist at the University made it for me after I almost got scorched by one of my patients unconsciously fighting me." Harry shuddered at the memory--he'd been unconscious for over an hour afterwards and had scared ten years off of Quiesta's life at the time.

"Can it drain a person's magic?" Dumbledore asked cagily, a seed of an idea forming in his head. Severus looked startled.

Harry gave it some thought. "I suppose if the intent was put into it, it could, which is just another reason to keep quiet about it." He gave both Severus and Dumbledore a significant look and they both nodded in understanding--they would not mention it to anyone.

Harry took a few moments to sink into the place within himself he needed to be to do his work. He stood directly behind Dumbledore, the front of his body lightly touching the exposed back of the Headmaster. Dumbledore startled a little, but relaxed; Harry ignored the reaction, having expected it. He asked, "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Dumbledore murmured, his eyes glazed as his mind wandered off into meditation.

Harry's voice had the dreamy cast it always had right before he was ready to work. He said, "_Contineo,_" and a vertical shimmering, much like a cushioned wall, formed behind him. "Lean back and let me support your weight. I need you to tip your head back and relax."

Dumbledore did as instructed, the youthful frame behind him surprising in its firmness. He admitted to a small amount of nervousness he could not completely dispel. In all his years, he'd never needed a Healer. Oh assuredly a Medi-wizard on the odd occasion when he injured himself; he had his own who would come to see him when necessary as he would not allow Poppy to touch him this way--she was his wife, not his physician. But a Healer? No, Healers were for when things were desperate, when you were dying, or at least that was how it was viewed by his generation. Wanting to get this done as soon as possible, he made himself go limp.

When he felt him relax, Harry placed his hands on the front of his shoulders for a few minutes while he waited for Dumbledore to sink into his meditation. His weight finally settling, Harry braced one leg back slightly into the shimmering, which was there to carry both of their weights, a little trick Quiesta had recently shown him so he could conserve his strength for the magic.

Placing his fingers on Dumbledore's temples, the thumbs and palms settling in his thick white hair on the sides and the back of his head, he began to sink into him. He travelled the pathways, murmuring the diagnostic spells as he went. On the periphery, Harry was conscious that Severus travelled with him, through their handfasting, he assumed. It was soothing and unobtrusive, lending him support when, with difficulty, he suppressed his personal reactions; he took a moment every now and again to recentre himself and hold onto his objectivity. What he was sensing overall dismayed him.

When Harry diagnosed the malady in Albus' stomach, he realised this was probably the least of his concerns. It was a mess, but he could repair it. The _Sanos_ ringing, he destroyed with relish the small cancer he found there and repaired the torn and burned tissue caused by an obvious tendency to bury deep worry. Given that he didn't think he would be able to get Albus to change too many of what were probably the habits of a lifetime, he did his best to adjust the organ to minimize the amount of acid it would produce in the future. He knew this would curtail the man's penchant for rich food, but since there were other reasons he needed to do so, the alternatives were far more unattractive. Of course, it would never stop his sweet tooth. Harry almost chuckled at the random thought even as he killed it as unproductive.

He went deeper. Each time he found other spots of the cancerous tissues, he destroyed them; near the end, he was satisfied he'd got it all. It wouldn't save Albus in the long run, nothing he could do would as there were other things he'd found far more pervasive and destructive, but he was at least assured something so simple would not be the cause of his demise and would buy him, perhaps, a few more years.

The _Sanos_ rang several more times, sometimes quite protracted, and then Harry was finished. Ever so slowly, he pulled out, his shoulders sagging with fatigue when he was finally separate. He took a moment to compose himself and without warning, bent down to kiss the old man's cheek, his arms wrapping loosely around his neck and chest, his cheek on top of his head, as he gave him a light hug from behind. Dumbledore patted his hands gently, like a father, and then settled his hands back into his lap. Harry straightened and dismissed the shimmering behind him.

Albus looked energised, his color better, his face free of the tiny lines no one had noticed were there as a result of a constant background pain he'd long learned to ignore. He conjured a chair between him and Severus for Harry to sit in while adding a back to the one he occupied. He settled into it and while Harry was seating himself, said, "Well?"

Harry drew a deep breath saying, "I'll need to check every few weeks to make sure the cancer stays away, but for now, it is completely gone."

Ignoring for the moment Severus' startled reaction, Dumbledore sighed with relief. "My deepest thanks, Harry. No one truly appreciates the absence of pain until it is gone. I feel wonderful." He challenged Severus' glare, "And my thanks to you as well, Severus. Although you will hardly credit it, your stubbornness is always appreciated." Dumbledore chuckled.

Severus snorted. Harry hid a smile--some things never changed and the complex relationship between Albus and Severus was just one of them.

Albus took one look at Harry's serious face and said lightly, "Go on, you might as well say the rest."

Harry continued soberly, his eyes not leaving Dumbledore's, "Severus, you'll need to start making your _Digitalus Potion_ for Albus on an as-needed basis as well as a _Tonos Panacea Potion_ on a regular schedule as he will need to start taking it every day, preferably at night so it can work while he sleeps."

"What properties do you want in the _Panacea_?" Severus asked, his voice as professional as he could make it--the potion Harry was requesting was strong and usually used as a last resort to ease dying patients. He'd not made it in years.

Harry's shoulders slumped. He eyed Dumbledore, silently asking for permission to speak fully. Albus calmly nodded and Harry said slowly, avoiding for the moment Severus' question. "There is nothing I can do to stop the general systemic deterioration I found. It's simply a matter of age. I'm sorry, Albus."

"Think nothing of it, dear boy. I AM old, you know," he replied with his usual twinkle and a small smile.

"Your heart is failing, as you are probably aware. The _Digitalus Potion_ will help tone the muscle and keep the beat steady, thereby eliminating most of the arrhythmia and discomfort you have been suffering from for some time now."

Albus narrowed his eyes and acknowledged Harry's words with, "Yes, I knew there was a problem." Seeing the dawning anger blossoming on Severus' face, he continued, "Don't go there, Severus. The problem is fairly recent and had it gone much further, I would have sought a consultation." He defied Harry with his eyes to put the lie to his words. Harry's mouth quirked to the side away from Severus; he would keep Albus' little deception to himself--for now.

Harry finally looked at Severus and wanted to sink into the empathy he saw in his eyes, but knew he could not, yet. He mimicked Severus' apparent professionalism as he said, "The _Tonos Panacea Potion_ needs to be a general formula--I have few specific properties in mind because there are few specific problems to overcome." He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Albus, for a man your age, you are very healthy--well, except for the heart and the cancers and we can take care of them separately. What I sensed is a general--fading--of your systems. The _Panacea_ is only to keep them running smoothly until such a time," he took a deep breath, "they simply can't function anymore." He struggled to keep his voice calm.

"How long?" Dumbledore asked matter-of-factly.

"I don't know," Harry whispered. "Months? Years? I've never really worked with anyone your age." He hesitated and added softly, "You need to tell Poppy, though." At the irate expression dawning on the Headmaster's face, Harry continued, "You know I'm right. It would not be fair for you to keep it from her." He chuckled lightly as the thought occurred to him, "I'm just saying this to prolong your life, you know. She's quite skilled and is probably already suspicious. She'll kill you and save you the effort of dying naturally if she ever finds out you held something this important back from her."

The thought of Poppy's wrath was amusing to all three of them and did much to relieve the building tension. Looking at the clock, Dumbledore said, "I'm certain you can tell Severus exactly what it is you want him to do with the potion later, Harry. As for now, I hate to rush you, but Poppy is due up here in a few minutes and I need a few moments alone to figure out how I'm going to tell her. You're right; I will do so. Come back tomorrow, both of you, and we can re-open our _discussion_ on the rest of your extortion for the celebration after your vows."

He stood and shooed them to the door, his hands waving. "Now away with you." When they hesitated, he sighed and embraced them both. "I am fine and will be here a while longer. Now leave me to Poppy." They looked at him long and hard before leaving the room.

He sighed again after the door closed behind them. He may be dying, but so were all old people, and he knew they were hurting. Harry especially, although one could never be too sure what Severus was truly feeling; he always hid it well and was a constant source of delightful surprise to him.

He'd felt the struggle Harry had made in the beginning and, once overcome, Albus remembered the sense of bottled pride he'd felt as Harry had tingled his way systematically through his body as he'd worked. He shook his head, bemused. Harry's healing had been soothing, calming, and painless--certainly easier than he'd ever imagined. He wondered briefly if that was because Harry cared for him or if it was just the way it was. Knowing Harry and his gentle nature, he suspected both. Pity most people would only see the boy as the one who had killed Voldemort, never knowing what he was truly like.

And while he felt better, stronger, than he had in years, there was also a sense of weakness that he knew came from knowing that whatever the dear boy gave him in time, it would never be enough to accomplish all the things he still wanted to do. However, such a small detail as his health was not going to stop him from protecting them in a few weeks when they got married. He chuckled wickedly. He had every intention of using this 'infirmity', and the concern it would engender, to his advantage during the coming _negotiations_ with a certain sneaky Potions master who could con a Galleon from a Goblin. He would have to be subtle, but he would prevail.

Relishing the unaccustomed sense of upcoming victory over Severus, he sat back at his desk and waited for Poppy to join him for their usual afternoon tea.

TBC


	5. Part I : A Right Softy

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part One : Into Every Life a Little Strain Must Fall  
**Chapter Five : A Right Softy**

**11 September 2003** (Continued)

They'd said nothing to each other on the way back to their quarters, although, in a rare public display, Severus had taken Harry's hand tightly and not let go despite the strange looks they'd received from those few they passed. Severus knew neither one trusted themselves further, so they waited until they were private. Severus had no more closed the door behind him when Harry walked into his arms, his restrained tears absorbed by Severus' robes. Holding Harry and his own emotions fast, he almost regretted coercing the examination on Dumbledore. Almost. _'Not because of Albus though, but because of what it will do to Harry. It's better in the long run to know, but gods how it hurts.'_

Calmer, Harry eventually pulled back, his forehead on Severus' chest. Although he'd always thought Harry's occasional vulnerability was one of his greatest strengths, Severus knew from long experience that Harry hated to be seen this way, even by him, so he patiently waited for Harry to pull himself together before he would face him. He smiled privately at the faint sniffles coming from his lover, so old and so young at the same time. When all was silent, Severus kissed the top of his head, murmuring, "Better?"

Raising his head, his cheeks flushed as much from his emotional purging as from embarrassment, he smiled tiredly. "Yeah. Sorry 'bout that."

"I'll tell you what--I'll accept your apology for making such an emotional spectacle of yourself, if you'll accept mine for caring about the old bugger in the first place." As he'd hoped, Harry gave him one of those boyish grins that made his heart turn inside out. Gods, how he loved this man--there were not enough words sometimes, not enough air to breathe when he felt this way.

Harry knew it, though. Severus could tell from the softening around his eyes, the way his grin transformed into a happy smile, the way his head tilted, just so, to reach up and capture his mouth in a serious kiss, his lips moulding to his like an embrace, their tongues stroking like tender hands on willing flesh. With Harry's body pressing to his, arms wrapped tightly around him, anchoring him, defining him by a circle of closeness--it never got better than this because Severus knew one could never improve on perfection.

They needed nothing more for now.

* * *

Returning from his workroom, Severus sat next to Harry on the sofa in the sitting room. Slumped over, his elbows on his knees, face in his hands, Harry made a perfect picture of thoughtful worry. Scooting closer, Severus put his arm around his shoulders and nudged his ear with his nose. When Harry raised his head, Severus handed him a small bottle with the clear amber restorative. "Here, drink this. You'll feel better for it."

Harry held it loosely in his hand but made no move to open it. Severus raised a questioning brow when Harry said, "We need to talk and this will just make me sleepy."

Severus knew sleep was what Harry really needed, but far be it from him to tell him what to do. He walked into his study and a few moments later came back with writing materials. Making himself comfortable in the corner of the sofa, his feet stretched out, he said, "Very well. I am assuming you wish to discuss the _Panacea_ properties?" At Harry's noise of assent, he continued in his best professorial manner, "While the base of the potion is fairly stable, I will need for you to dictate the 3rd, 4th, 6th, 9th, and 13th ingredients for me, in order." He poised the dry quill over the parchment, waiting.

Flummoxed, Harry blinked fatuously for a few moments while he mumbled to himself, "I know this. I know I know this." But he was just too tired, the thoughts were pudding in his head. Then one came forward unbidden and his eyes narrowed. Glaring at Severus, he was about to scorch him when his humour reasserted itself and laughing lightly, he began to see the point he was quite sure Severus had intended all along. He shook his head, looking down at the innocent vial in his hands. Damn, the man was as sneaky as Albus. No wonder his life was so convoluted; between the two of them, Albus certainly had more practice, but Severus had the greater talent and more access. With a small chuckle, and a quick sideways glance at the amused man sitting next to him, he ruefully asked, "Am I always this easy to manipulate?"

Severus hid his smile; the confounded looks flitting across Harry's expressive face were too delightful for words. "No, not really; however, it is absurdly simple to do so when you are too tired to think straight." He waited and was rewarded by Harry laughing through a huge yawn. "Just as I suspected. I think we can discuss this later this evening after you've had a good rest; with your concurrence, I have some suggestions for the initial ingredients." He couldn't help thinking that it was a good thing they were working this evening as Harry held the last dose of restorative and would probably need at least one more dose by the morrow. When he'd gone to pick this one up, he'd taken the time to start the first phase on a new batch, which would be ready for him to finish later when they made Albus' potions.

Harry nodded, pleased, and after uncorking the vial, drained it. Placing the empty container on the table next to him he crawled up and stretched out half on top of Severus, who'd already dropped the quill and paper to the floor. Within moments, Harry lightly dozed comfortably ensconced in his arms. Severus had known it wouldn't take long--the combination of the healing and the subsequent emotional upheaval would be enough to wear anyone out. He held Harry loosely for some minutes, relaxing himself from the unexpected stress of the day.

With a series of long sighs, Harry's body gradually became dead weight as he fell into deeper sleep. Unable to join him just yet, even though he felt exhausted, Severus adjusted their position slightly to pull Harry closer, grateful the restorative was working properly. Once assured he'd have circulation later when Harry woke, he let his thoughts wander, studying what he'd seen over the better part of the morning and afternoon.

Once Albus had settled and Harry started his diagnosis, Severus had watched his lover's face move through a myriad of quickly repressed emotions, the most common being sorrow, and he'd understood in full why Harry was loath to work on 'family'. Near the beginning, before Harry completely succeeded in pushing his Mastery to the fore, he'd failed to stop a single tear tracking down his face. Severus had noted it, though, a sinking feeling in his gut. A long look at Dumbledore had revealed the man deep in meditation, eyes closed, his pale face lax and expressionless. It had bothered Severus greatly at the time; Albus had too much resembled a corpse, albeit one sitting up. It had come as something of a shock; he'd never before seen him in repose--not even asleep.

And it had been odd. When Harry had healed Kalani, he'd been intimately aware of Harry's use of the _Sanos_ magic, perhaps more so than the others present, he'd thought, because of his own training. Now he was not so sure of that assessment. While they'd only spoken of it once, he grudgingly allowed that they'd become 'connected', for lack of a better word, during the few times they'd used the _Sanos_ magic on each other. Harry had started it when he'd healed Severus in his Sixth Year and deepened it when he'd pulled the old Dark Magic out of the scars on his body. The first time, Harry had wielded instinctive, raw power, much like using a sledgehammer to crack an egg, and while he'd exerted far more control the second time, he'd been influenced more by his emotions than his common sense when he'd done so.

He himself had done it unintentionally over the weeks it had taken to reunite Harry with his memories when he and Dumbledore had almost killed him in that ill-fated duel and again when ridding Harry of Draco's poison. And, if he were honest with himself, he had to admit the strong emotions he'd felt for Harry both times probably drove the connection deeper. With a shudder, he remembered how he had almost drained himself with the _Sanos_ he'd poured into Harry in the infirmary, not only because of the extent of the injuries, but also due to his lack of skill; he was a Potions master and Legilimens, not a Healer. No, he'd not wielded the _Sanos_ with anywhere near the finesse he'd witnessed today or in Hana.

_'Hmmm. I wonder--did an inadvertent Sanos connection early on cause us to set aside our differences to eventually feel the way we do about each other, or did our then unknown and unrealised affections cause the Sanos to connect us in the first place? Given that one cannot heal if one hates and, if Harry is to be believed, that love of some kind has to be present for the Sanos to work, it's probably the latter. Or at least I hope so.'_ He shuddered. Heaven only knew what the consequences would be to them if Harry actually made that close a connection with every patient he healed.

He sighed. It was all so complicated, even more so after today. His previous experiences of 'knowing' things about Harry through some nebulous connection and the brief interval of yet another link made through the wards they'd cast through the glyph had in no way prepared him for the impact the handfasting would have on it all. It had been less than a month since their loose binding, scarcely time for his cold brand of logic to adjust to the capricious nature of Harry's state of mind.

He snorted thinking of the hodgepodge of images that would just pop into his head at the most inopportune times if Harry was somewhere within a proximity they'd not yet been able to establish. With limited success they could read each other across the room and deliberately send pictures to each other and had even managed it a couple of times when on opposite sides of the castle, but more often than not, there was no rhyme nor reason to it.

Take today for example. This morning he'd awakened to an image of Harry in the bath. Thinking he would join him, he'd gone to the pool only to find no Harry there--until out of the corner of his eye he'd seen a flash and suddenly found himself airborne, splashing into the pool, dressing gown and all--the little sneak. The payment he'd exacted for the prank brought an evil smile to his face; revenge had been sweet indeed.

And yet later, when he'd called by Floo, he'd attempted to 'tell' Harry without words the gravity of the matter with Dumbledore. Given the alacrity with which Harry had responded, he was certain Harry had understood his urgency; however, he was convinced it was more from his facial expressions than anything he'd managed to send otherwise. Normally when he 'sent' something to Harry successfully, there was a crispness about it, rather like the first pungent crunch of fresh cabbage. This time, it had felt more like boiled cabbage, soft and tasteless, not really there at all. With a dawning realisation, he wondered if it had something to do with the Floo itself and made a mental note to discuss it with Harry later when things settled down.

With Harry fully concentrating on his art, a series of confusing images had floated through his head at irregular intervals all through the morning and afternoon. After the first one of a pale pink background with dark grey splotches, it had taken him a few minutes to realise he was 'seeing' Harry's progress and a few more moments for him to process the information enough to make some small sense of it. When he'd received several of them, he'd known Harry was 'travelling the pathways', as he called it, the Latin and Greek of the mumbled diagnostic spells going a long way in helping him know 'where' he was. Despite the imagery's visual clarity, his uncertainty remained as to 'what', exactly, he'd witnessed.

He'd sat there, not even daring to move while he quietly concentrated on the confusing diorama passing through his mind, silently appalled with the frequency with which he heard the _Sanos_ ring as Harry traversed Dumbledore's body. At a few, odd intervals the little ball in the old man's hands had flashed, usually emitting a shower of golden sparks as Dumbledore's natural reaction to Harry's invasion was dissipated harmlessly into the fire. One time, near the end, the _Sanos_ notes had soured, then righted themselves back into a steady tone as a veritable fountain of magic had spewed violently into the fireplace. He'd felt Harry struggling and knew then, with a fearful certainty as the sparks continued to fly unabated, that Harry had entered one of Dumbledore's shielded places. He'd not been able to tell exactly where 'they' were--the heart he'd thought, given the pulsing, lurid red he'd briefly envisioned, but the long duration did not bode well for the old man.

Which brought him right back to where he'd started--Albus--the most stubborn, devious, ingratiating, insufferably cheerful, cunning, irritating, rule-breaking, Hufflepuffish Slytherin rogue he'd ever loved.

He absently stroked Harry's hair, his head thrown back, finally letting his own sparse tears leak out to stain the cushions beneath his head. They didn't last long. They never did. He was having a hard time envisioning a world without Albus. He also knew, with a wry thought, the old man would shamelessly use the knowledge to his advantage. _'After all, it's what I would do were I him. However, I want the old bugger around as long as I can. I suppose it would not be such a bad trade to let him have some of his way about the plans for the wedding. I'll have to talk to Harry about it, but if allowing the Malfoys to come to the reception reduces his stress, then I see no other way around it.'_

He also had the random thought that Minerva should also probably be told and knew he'd gained a small bargaining chip of his own. He briefly wondered if they could get him to retire, but he quickly dismissed the thought--he knew it would never happen--Albus Dumbledore was as much Hogwarts as the walls themselves. _'Still it will do no harm to have McGonagall prepared to take over--maybe sooner than later'_.

He finally let the exhaustion take him and started drifting off into slumber himself. The late afternoon sunlight in the windows drew a small smile of memory of long afternoons spent lounging in bed in Hana, sleeping off the day's heat, and waiting for the revitalization of the cooler evenings. With this happier thought, he closed his eyes and followed Harry into his dreams.

* * *

A knock later in the evening while they were in the Potions lab took Harry by surprise, but not Severus. He'd been half-expecting the late night visitor and had removed the wards in anticipation.

They were making the potions for Albus; the _Digitalus_ was fairly simple to make and had been finished for quite some time as had Harry's restorative. While Severus brewed the third one, they quietly discussed the incident with the Floo earlier. After carefully measuring the doses in Severus' gold scales, Harry rolled the pasty _Digitalus_ into hard little balls, a mindless task compared to their thoughtful conversation. About the time they decided they really should study more 'their way' of communicating, Harry finished transfiguring, from one of Severus' spare bottles, a special metal case with which Albus could carry the medication. All he would need do was to place one of the doses under his tongue whenever he felt distress. Harry made a second, smaller container for Poppy to keep just in case.

The _Panacea_ was more difficult and Severus knew he would have to do this every fortnight, making adjustments as Harry directed, for the brew didn't have a long shelf life. He was keeping it fairly generic right now after talking to Harry over dinner, but he knew it would grow more complex and less effective with time.

He called out, "Come," and within moments Poppy was closing the door behind her. Her face was still slightly puffy and it had been with no surprise that Harry and Severus had noted her and Albus' conspicuous absence from the Head Table at dinner. Harry walked over to her and gave her a hug, one she returned with a fervour he'd not expected. She put him away just as quickly, dabbing her eyes and saying, "Oh, I can't afford to do _that_ again. If I start, I'm not sure I'll ever stop." Severus motioned to Harry, who came to his side taking the watch over the brew steaming over its cold fire. They had a few minutes before the next step.

Severus wrapped her in his arms, his history with her longer, his compassion easier for her to accept. She buried her face in his chest and let the tears flow again. He calmly accepted them and held her fast for quite a while until she made the motions that she wanted to step back. He let her, but he did not loose his hold entirely. He handed her a handkerchief, which she used to blot her face and, with his arm still around her shoulders, he led her to the chair at his desk, sitting her down. He propped himself on the desk top. "You'll feel better after you talk to Harry as I did. We both think we have some ways to keep Albus around for quite a bit longer."

She nodded, somewhat reassured and turned to Harry, ready to listen. Severus went back to the potion, taking over. Harry pulled a stool over and sat down so he could see them both. "I'm sorry to have created such a fuss," he began, "Albus was very sick when I began, but he's much better now. There's just a few things left that I can't fix anymore. I'm sorry."

"Don't you apologise, young man," Poppy said, her face resuming its normal no-nonsense expression, her voice steady and professional. "I know you've done all you could and more than most, including myself. I knew this day would come and although he's not all that much older than me, he's squandered much of himself on others and the fight with Voldemort. It was to be expected, in a way. What exactly is wrong with him? He wasn't very forthcoming other than to say he'd had you look at him, that there were some problems which would require him to start taking some medications, and that the end was closer than farther away. He was very vague."

Harry tilted his head raising his brows. "A bit simplistic, but accurate--he knows what the problems are, though."

Poppy chuckled, "Yes, I know he does, dear. But he also knew I'd come here anyway. Saved him the bother of reciting it himself and he never has let me come near him that way. Oh, I admit, I've peeked every now and again, but there are areas he has blocked off by his magic where I could never see. Although he's never said as much, I always suspected those blocks were defences to keep Dark Magic out rather than hide anything from me."

"Yes, his shields are formidable, but I was able to worm around them." He thought to the arcs of magical energy he'd shot to the metal ball when they had threatened to overwhelm him. Severus gave him a glance, the question obvious and Harry nodded at him in response. "Fortunately, I had the means to blow off his steam, so to speak." Poppy laughed despite herself.

Wishing he could keep the mood light, Harry showed her the two containers of the _Digitalus_. She knew what they were on sight and paled. "One of these is for him to keep, the other is for you in case he forgets his." He placed them in her palm and gently closed her nerveless fingers over the vials, saying, "His heart is failing and will probably be what gets him in the end. It's greatly enlarged because of the high blood pressure he suffers from when under stress and from the clogs to his arteries; the muscle is tiring. The electrical system to it is weakening as well, which has caused some arrhythmia. There's nothing more I can do to repair the heart itself, but the medicine should ease him."

Poppy had closed her eyes to the litany of trouble he was calmly reciting. "Is there anything more?"

"Just a few things, but mostly it's a matter of the general systemic deterioration one finds in the aged--he's actually pretty healthy--well, he is now." She gave him one of her 'Well, get on with it' looks he was so familiar with from his time as her apprentice. He shook his head and chuckled--it didn't matter how old he got, she would always give him that look and he was calmed by it.

"I cleaned out the plaque I found clogging the arteries in his heart; that alone will buy him quite a bit of time. Although there was some serious hardening in some other arteries I cleared, less so elsewhere, his vascular system overall is still pretty strong as is his respiratory system. While I can continue to clean out any new residue forming in his circulatory system, I can't repair the damaged vessels themselves--they're too fragile."

He cleared his throat and suppressed a yawn. He was still tired, but had insisted on helping Severus with the potions. "When I fixed his stomach problems, I had to fiddle with the organ a bit so it won't produce as much acid--he had one hell of an ulcer. It might not be a bad idea for one of us to instruct the house-elves to make his meals a little simpler than they have been. He'll need to pile up the vegetables and cut out most of his meat--and of course, the heavy sauces and gravies have to go."

She interrupted him with a snort. "Oh, he'll be right pleased with that," she declared with some of her normal merriment.

Severus chimed in, the next stage of the potion finished. "Perhaps, but he won't yell at the house-elves the same way he would with us, nor will he with the students present. By the time he can get around to it, it'll be done and over. He can still have his teas, his mulled wine, and his sweets, so we can use those as the bargaining chips we need to keep him quiet about the rest of it. And I don't think he has to cut them out entirely--I suspect he'd rather die early than have to give up everything he likes."

Poppy stared at him and laughed. "The two of you are a right pair, you are. Aye, a compromise will be best or he'll do none of it. You let me worry about it." Turning to Harry, she asked, "You're concerned about the fats?"

"The fats, the salts, the acids--you know, all the good stuff." He hesitated and forged on, "He also really needs extra vegetables, especially the hard, coloured ones."

Her mind was working overtime. "Baldion's Syndrome?" she ventured, afraid of the answer. He nodded--Baldion's Syndrome--what the Muggles called cancer. Her heart pounded in dread at this veritable death sentence. With preternatural calm, she asked, "How far is it advanced?"

"Stomach, colon, spleen, and liver. We caught it early; I was able to destroy all of it with extreme malice."

She smiled broadly, beyond relief as she asked incredulously, "You can erase any other infestations?" Baldion's Syndrome was not something she could cure; she didn't know any other Healers who could either and suspected this was solely a Harry talent--one for which she was infinitely grateful.

He grinned back at her, glad to be finally giving her some good news. "I talked him into regular checks--if I can find it, I can get rid of it."

"Anything else?" she asked, relaxing a bit; the worst was over.

"Not really. You've been treating his arthritis, very well I might add, so there was nothing else for me to do. His mind is sharp and lucid, well, as much as it ever is for him." She chuckled and smiling, he continued. "His sight and hearing are excellent as are his other senses; everything else seems to be working pretty well."

She echoed his unspoken thought, "For his age." She smiled at his discomfort.

He flushed a little and cleared his throat. "Well, it seemed a little impolitic to mention it." He glanced over and Severus was chortling as he stirred the contents of the cauldron. It was starting to give off a pleasant lemony smell.

Poppy curtailed her curiosity a moment and turned back to Harry. "Thank you, Harry. He wouldn't say--how long did you work on him?"

"I don't know," Harry replied, "I wasn't keeping track."

"I was, though--six hours, Poppy," Severus spoke up.

"That explains why he almost fell asleep over his tea," she smirked. "Oh, and he asked me to give you this." She handed him his metal ball. "What is it?"

Harry hesitated and then shrugged. "A little device I use to dissipate a patient's magic when it tries to interfere with what I'm doing." He looked closely at it, surprised, his brows raising almost into his fringe.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Severus questioned at the sudden keen look on his face.

He replied, mystified, "It's changed colours. It used to be blue and green and now it's blue and yellow. Odd that. It's never done that before."

"I suspect it's never had to channel that kind and magnitude of power before," Severus commented. "It released several times while you were working on him. One, near the end, was sustained for several minutes. Useful device. Does it just channel the energy or do you have to direct it?"

"I have to direct it. I know when you're speaking of. It was when I was cleaning out the muck in his heart. His magic was most emphatic I not be there, so I had to--move it--so to speak." He made it sound so simple when in reality he'd struggled hard and had almost lost himself in the shielding Dumbledore had in place. He reckoned that all the years of sparring with the old man had helped him work around what, in the end, were only shields. He never even considered it was due to his own immutable power.

"And how are you, Harry, after all of this?" Poppy was eyeing him professionally. "Shouldn't you be sleeping, too?"

Severus once again beat him to it. "He took a nap right afterwards and I assure you, I'll see he gets more later on. He's stubborn, but I needed him here to tell me what properties to instill in the _Tonos Panacea Potion_."

"He needs it?" She once again paled.

Harry put his hand over hers in her lap. "Poppy, it's a prop more than anything else, although it will help with the high blood pressure. If we can adjust it regularly, it will bolster his systems to keep them from failing too soon and help prevent cascade failures. He's not actively dying." _Yet._

She shook herself--the need for the _Panacea Potion_ put the whole thing in a different light. Made it more real somehow. She took a deep breath against the tears stinging the backs of her eyes. "That's more than I could do. How long does he have?"

Severus replied gently, "Poppy, you know better than to ask that. We have no idea. I can tell you, this batch is more like a strong tonic than anything. It should give him more energy and help with digestion."

She looked over at Harry. He shrugged. "As long as we can keep his spirits up and keep him from dwelling on it, should be quite a while. But a number? No, I'm sorry, I fabricated all my Divination homework."

Some moments later (and still chuckling), Poppy reached into the pocket of her robe and handed him a vial of the restorative potion. "Knowing you usually work in the hospices where there is a ready supply, I brought you this in case you had none of your own." Before he could reply, she ruffled his hair affectionately and standing from the chair, walked over to the cauldron, cautiously peering into it. "You know, in all the years you've been doing it, Severus, I never have actually seen you make the potions with which you so amply provide the infirmary." She inhaled deeply. "This one smells good--what's wrong with it?"

Harry laughed at the sour look on Severus' face. He harumphed before replying, "It was Harry's idea. He wanted to add some sherbet lemons to it, hoping to make it taste better. It won't harm it any and if it makes it easier to take--"

"You're a softy, Severus," she chortled, clearly not believing him.

Severus looked between her and a smirking Harry, his brow raised. "There is no need to get insulting. I merely concurred that medicine is easier to take if it is less obnoxious." He levelled a scathing glare at Harry who was covering his mouth--he'd allow Severus his little deception as the idea had been solely his; Harry'd had nothing to do with it.

"A right softy," she repeated, laughing softly, her look affectionate.

Severus rolled his eyes in resignation and for a small, blessed while, in the jocular, desperate manner of people covering their fears and sorrows, the three of them continued in a happier tone, the Medi-witch and Healer teasing the Potions master unmercifully about his hidden clemency until it was time to decant the potion.

The smiles regretfully dissolved from their faces when Severus gave Poppy the finished bottle and a small cup, saying more seriously, "He needs to take one cupful right before bed, preferably at the same time every night. It will work better when he's not active." He rotated the bottle held loosely in her hands until the back label was visible. Tapping the neatly written words with one stained finger, he continued, "Just so you know, there are a couple of very mild soporifics, Chamomile and Valerian, in the brew to help him sleep. Right now it's mainly herbal with just enough magic to bind it." He ran the finger still on the label down its length. "Here's the full list of ingredients. I promise I will let you know when we have to start using the stronger formulas."

Nodding, she sighed heavily as she said, "Thank you. I know how much you care about him and it makes me feel less alone in this whole thing." She eyed them and in a brisker tone, went on, "Now, off to bed, you two." She thought about what she'd just said. "To sleep!" With a watery smile she gave them each a brief hug and was out the door before they could see her cry again.

Severus and Harry stared worriedly at the closed door for a few moments before glancing at each other, heaving mutual sighs of their own. Wordlessly, they set about cleaning up the mess, the spells flying as ingredients soared back to their respective shelves and bottles to their cabinets. When the last cauldron had been scrubbed and everything was secured, Severus captured Harry from behind as he was hanging up his ancient work smock. Kissing his neck, he growled softly, "A softy, eh, Potter?"

Turning around in the loose circle of Severus' embrace to face him, Harry pressed close, chuckling. "Well, not now." Running his hands up the arms enfolding him, he murmuring huskily, "What say you we go to bed?"

Removing his hands from Harry's waist to cover an unwelcome yawn, Severus stepped away, heading for the door. He tossed over his shoulder, "That's not a bad idea. We both need to sleep."

Harry caught up with him as he was about to turn the knob. "I need something else more--and I think, perhaps, you do, too." He put both hands on Severus' face and kissed him deeply. Severus groaned and folded him in his arms, the need irresistible. When he stood back, Harry gave him a charming smile. "We'll _sleep_ better for it," he coaxed.

Even Severus couldn't deny Harry had a point. They went back to their quarters where Severus taught Harry the soft strains of a new lullaby.

TBC


	6. Severus' Awful Terrible Horrible Bad Day

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part One : Into Every Life a Little Strain Must Fall  
**Chapter Six : Severus' Awful Terrible Horrible Bad Day**

**Monday 12 September 2003**

"No, you imbecile! The milkweed goes in AFTER the bubotuber pus!" At the blank look he received from the frozen idiot, he roared, "MOVE! NOW! Get away from the cauldron!" He swooped over to the work table intent on overturning the pot, but he was too late. The offending student, instead of stepping aside, moved closer and got a face full of the pink steam suddenly shooting out of the top. The effects were immediate.

He stopped in his tracks, the sight in front of him one of the funniest he'd seen since the time Granger had grown teeth down to her chest. While she would never know it, his comment at the time, "I see no difference," had been the kindest thing he could think of with such short notice. His other thoughts would have been crueler, if more humourous. Today, however, he couldn't stop it in time and the amused snort escaping him was frightening in its intensity and its brevity as he gained control over his mirth.

Fighting further laughter, he let his blossoming irritation take over as he rounded on the hapless student responsible for this latest debacle. Furious, he blasted him. "_Mr._ Plens, you are quite possibly the clumsiest student I have had the misfortune of teaching since Mr. Longbottom left this esteemed establishment. What part of 'get-away' did you not understand? I believe you have obtained the singular honour of topping the list of puerile students to bollix such a simple potion with such unexpected results." He continued in his best Snape manner for several minutes enjoying the stammering replies; he suffered no fools in his class and this one should have learned it well by now.

William Plens was one of his more limited Slytherins; he and another youth shadowed Lance Veni in much the same manner as Crabbe and Goyle had followed Malfoy. The steam he'd inhaled caused him to grow ears better suited to a rampaging pachyderm, hence Snape's inner amusement; they almost looked natural on the hulking brute. The more flustered the boy got, the faster his ears had fanned until, towards the end, Snape's hair was blowing straight out, his robes billowing in the ensuing gale. He was surprised the brainless git wasn't airborne. The only good thing about the whole incident was that he was assured the idiot (who he was convinced had a hidden Longbottom lineage) had been able to hear him quite well as he removed 20 points from his own House. He could almost wish for the Dark Days when he could favour his Slytherins above all others.

He finally concluded his tirade. "While I assure you I would like nothing less than to expound further on this subject for your 'listening' enjoyment, your detention will best be served with Mr. Filch this evening as I will not be available to 'hear' your sorry excuses. In the meantime, take you and your new--appendages--up to the infirmary at once. Perhaps Madame Pomfrey has some mastodonic charms to restore you to your former bungling self."

He glared at the smirking Draco Malfoy of this generation. "Mr. Veni?" He smiled evilly inside at the startled attention he received from this young upstart. "Accompany him and ensure he gets there since he seems confused by the simplest of directions. Stay with him until he is discharged and see to it he makes it back to the Common Room afterwards." He ignored the calculating stare he received and motioned them both out the door. _'Draco may have been hell-bent for murder, but at least he had class, something this arrogant Hooray is sorely lacking.'_

The remainder of the students snickered when they heard Veni tell Plens as he stumbled out of the room, "Idiot! You have to fold them to get through the door." He suppressed his own chuckle.

The rest of the class only got worse.

Severus hated Double Potions, especially with the Fourth Year Gryffindors and Slytherins; it was his last class of the day. He was convinced that the seemingly benign headmaster had a sadistic streak when it came to the class schedules, aided and abetted by his willing but revenge bent accomplice, McGonagall. No matter how many years he'd almost begged them to separate the two groups and mix them with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, he was denied and left with the two most volatile groups together. Although he did have to admit his Slytherins would probably make short work of the Hufflepuffs, he had always been keenly interested to see how the Ravenclaws would hold up. Not that he would ever find out.

And despite his best precautionary measures, he'd still had two other spectacular explosions in their class following the first accident--both by Gryffindors minding Slytherin business more than their own. After setting two more sets of detentions with Filch and skimming 30 total points from Gryffindor, he'd seen the class off with the greatest relief. _'Stupid buggers,'_ he thought to himself as he employed several spells to clean the mess from the last explosion. He supposed he could have made them stay to do the honours themselves, but he and Harry had an appointment with Dumbledore this evening and the thought of Filch and his mangy feline anywhere near his pristine lab sent shudders of disgust through him.

He swept back to his quarters, growling to himself about the discomforts of his wet robes (now a total loss) and the slimy glop in his hair (which had resisted the most stringent cleaning charms). It itched. He stripped down to his boxers at the door and rang for a house-elf to pick everything up for disposal as he stalked back to the bath. Even the thick steam and hot soak did nothing to improve his temper. Horatio came in as much to see him as to bask in the heat, but made a tactical retreat, hissing, when he saw the foul mood his master was in.

After getting dressed, he waited impatiently for Harry to come home so they could go to dinner together. Sitting at his desk, he'd reread the same line three times in his potions journal when a ball of feathers skidded and tumbled across his desk to lay still on the edge. The fast Courier Owl, obviously still in training judging from its inelegant landing, was from Harry. The bird righted himself and minced over to stand on the pages of his journal. Severus untied the note from the nervous owl; he unfurled the tightly wound piece of parchment and read:

> _Sev,_  
_So sorry, but am detained in Surrey for a bit of bother with the officials here. I should be back before dinner is over, but just in case I'm not, don't wait for me. If I get back in time, I'll meet you in the Hall._
> 
> _Hope your day was not as boring as mine... Looking forward to a spot of excitement this evening... Harry_

On the reverse side, he penned a bland reply and sent the owl back. While he greatly appreciated the note (for it spared him worry over Harry's tardiness) he was still annoyed for it meant he couldn't vent his spleen before enjoying his meal. Alone, frustrated, and late, he went to his supper.

The long trip from the dungeons did nothing to help his mood, especially when Madam Pomfrey accosted him in the hallway to give him an earful about his erstwhile student, now sans his huge appendages and resting comfortably. Ears ringing, he made his unobtrusive way through the staff door and went to his accustomed place. Seating himself at the head table, the chair next to him conspicuously empty, he glared at everyone in general with the fierceness of old. The Fifth through Seventh Year students, only needing to look once, remembered 'that face' well from their first years at the school and wondered who was in for it now. The younger ones were just more terrified of him.

If possible, his face got stonier as the food was served--liver with applesauce. If there was anything Severus hated more than Double Potions or imbecilic, inattentive students, it was liver. The house-elves had strict instructions not to serve it to him on pain of serious hexing. He was about to call one of them to task for the error when he caught the amused, satisfied glance of the headmaster looking down at him from the center of the table. Dumbledore smiled sweetly, glanced with distaste at the plain steamed carrots and broccoli (sans sauce or cheese) on his plate, then looked back to Snape with a smug smile before his face settled into the seeming innocence it normally wore. A little note popped up next to his plate with the words: "You look a little anaemic, my boy. Eat up--it's good for you."

Severus seethed and counted to ten in four languages before catching Dumbledore's eyes again; mumbling a quick spell, the words--"Eat your vegetables like a good little boy"--appeared in the air in front of the old man and then disappeared. Dumbledore frowned before chuckling. Severus smirked, feeling a little calmer; he was almost amused by the heavy-handed justice of the whole exchange.

The Headmaster had just given the signal to eat when the final straw arrived. Having resigned himself to scraping the applesauce off the bloody meat, Snape watched in singular apathy as a lone Special Delivery Postal Owl winged across the crowded Dining Hall from the doors into the Great Hall, settling neatly on the Head Table in front of him. He sighed when the nervous owl dropped a red envelope right in the middle of the applesauce. Not expecting a tip for such a delivery, the owl took off in all haste and left via an opening window behind the table.

It seemed to be his night for Owls.

Almost grateful for an excuse not to smell his meal anymore, Severus calmly stood from the table, pushed his chair back with a noisy screech, and carried the offending plate, with the envelope, away from the table amid the stunned, curious eyes of the students and staff.

As he was about to go through the staff door, Dumbledore started to rise to follow him; he was stopped with a hand on his shoulder by McGonagall who told him quietly she would take care of it. She followed Snape out of the Hall while a grim Dumbledore silently simmered.

Poppy took one look at his eloquent face and sighed, wondering briefly if it had been a good idea to tell the Deputy Headmistress about his illness this morning. It had to be done, but no one had anticipated the fierce protective streak Minerva had subsequently shown towards the headmaster; in just this one day she had managed to reduce him to grinding his teeth in frustration. One could only hope Minerva's smothering behaviour would lessen with time and familiarity. If not, it would be a race to see who killed whom first.

Dumbledore's sudden low chuckle took her by surprise and she wondered what he was up to with his head subtly cocked in the direction of the staff room. There was no telling at this point, but the minute changes in his face told her he was 'listening' in and whatever it was he was hearing was both amusing and alarming. She went back to her meal, somewhat reassured and, with moderate success, concentrated on ignoring the whole situation.

* * *

Deep in the staff room, Severus had just placed the plate on a side table well past the door when McGonagall walked through. Surprised, his eyebrow raised in question, Snape was about to comment when she said, closing the door firmly behind her, "You know the policy--all Howlers sent to the staff must be witnessed by another staff member."

Given that his choices were either her or Dumbledore, he appreciated her willingness to listen to what he was sure was another sordid commentary on his lifestyle. He said as much and then finished, "What a Gryffindor thing to do." He nodded his thanks and gave her a wan smile. She smiled and waved him to get on with it.

He gingerly lifted the flap of the envelope without removing it from its bed in the applesauce. With an explosive flash, it unfolded, forming a lurid mouth sliding around on the plate as it spewed its message at an ear-splitting volume. He'd not been very wrong about the contents--vile, profane, and full of portentous threats against Harry. The only good thing about it was, when finished with its reasty message, it had incinerated the unappetising slab of liver into a small pile of ashes.

"Do you have any idea who the sender was?" McGonagall asked him, her cheeks flaming at the particularly nasty message. While she'd been present when other such missives had arrived, she'd no idea they were this insulting and carried such threats. She would rather eat nails than admit it, but her respect of the Potions master rose in the face of his calm resignation to the thing.

His mouth twisted into its normal parody of a smile. "If I knew who sent it, I'd have to kill him and then give his house ten posthumous points for an imaginative and extensive use of common and arcane profanity, not to mention another 50 points for ridding me of that odious meal."

She chuckled. "Only 50 points?," she replied, grimacing. "I would have thought that kind service should have been enough to earn the House Cup."

He sighed and continued mildly, "Perhaps. What I fail to understand is why anyone still sends them. They do not, in the least, affect our decision. One would think it not worth the bother and expense."

"What did you expect? Total acceptance?" McGonagall asked with some asperity.

"Not you, too," he groaned.

She smiled warmly, her fondness for him showing despite her severity. "Severus, I assure you--if I had those kind of objections, you would have heard them long before now with a more extensive vocabulary and much better grammar." Suddenly serious she asked, "Surely you knew there would be those who feel this way about your relationship with Harry?"

He nodded, resigned. "Of course I did. Four years ago, I knew there would be accusations of coercion, knew there would be objections to my 'defiling' The-Boy-Who-Lived; I even anticipated the occasional attempt at pressing charges against me, but this? Now? When it's fairly obvious the relationship is mutually shared? No, Minerva--we'd prepared ourselves for many things and a certain amount of 'distaste' from certain quarters, but not this long-term, continual harassment and certainly not anything against Harry." This was what disturbed him the most--the vile message in the Howler had not been directed at him. And it was not the first.

"I would say that these things take time, but there's been plenty of that, has there not? Even among some of the staff it took a while for the--aversion--to die down. Albus was quite adamant that we set a good example about the whole thing and, as you know, only one teacher found himself unable to leave it be." She remembered how Professor Iacio, the Ancient Runes teacher, had left in a cloud of dissatisfaction. "However, you do have a point. Although I _can_ see where there might still be those who cannot accept his--orientation--and that his bloodline will die with him," she said quietly.

Severus laughed mirthlessly. "Even you know, Minerva, that our "orientation", as you so quaintly put it, does not preclude having natural children with all the potions and charms available to overcome such a small obstacle as two fathers." He snorted his jaded opinion of the courses of action open to them. "Did you know we received the official approval of our joined bloodlines from the Ministry just two days after the first Banns were posted?"

McGonagall gasped--Ministry sanctions of this nature were very rare. Then his words caught up to her; she was very confused. "Joined bloodlines? Banns? Severus, are you getting married?"

Severus grimaced ruefully. _'Now I've put my foot in it!'_ He nodded, saying, "Yes. Harry and I were handfasted three weeks ago. Dumbledore posted the Banns elsewhere to help us keep it private until the invitations are sent. We're having the final ceremony on the 25th of October."

"Severus! That's wonderful!" she exclaimed, giving him an unexpected hug. She peppered him with questions. "October? Why so quickly? That's only a month away. Why the secrecy?" Eyes narrowed, she finished, "Were you planning on telling anyone here?"

Severus had the grace to look away. "Actually it's almost two, months that is. It's complicated, Minerva. The date was set per the Orrery according to Albus. Remus, Moody, and Poppy know of it as they were our handfasting witnesses. We all decided it best to keep it under wraps for as long as we could for several reasons. Harry and I value our privacy and this is still a school." He pointed to the Howler on the table between them. "This is what we still get after four years with people just thinking we live together. Can you imagine the chaos there'd be if our up-coming nuptials were generally known?"

She admitted the reaction had been a bit over the top and said as much. She was calming down now and realised her omission from the 'conspiracy' wasn't personal.

He continued, "We'll be better prepared this time when the public invitations go out. There will be two sets. The first ones will be delivered in two weeks to those we want to actually participate in the ceremony with a strong request the information be kept private. The second set will be sent a week later on October 1st and are for the more public reception the day following the final bonding ceremony. Albus was most insistent about it and Harry and I found it hard to resist." He smiled at the understatement and the thought of the coming negotiations. "I know you may find this hard to believe in light of this conversation, but Harry and I _had_ planned to ask you tomorrow night in person if you would be one of our nuptial witnesses."

Her eyes softened at his statement. "I'd be honoured," she replied to his unspoken question.

He chuckled. "Be careful, Minerva. You may regret it--I know Poppy was going to talk to you and Hermione in a couple of days to help with the arrangements." His mouth quirked upwards. "Seems she takes exception to the amount of time we've given her."

Minerva sighed, only slightly put off. "While I can't blame her, I suppose there's no way to get around it. She'll need all the help she can get to pull it together in such a short length of time." She tilted her head. "So the Ministry has already sanctioned the marriage, albeit quietly. And given you permission to procreate. Quite the compliment."

"It's ironic. Harry and I have already revoked the privilege; we have it set in a private record--we want no issue from this marriage." He gave a half-smile. "Harry can be quite stubborn when he wants to be; he was most adamant about it and, of course, a passel of brats underfoot is exactly what I want as well." He thought mirthlessly, _'It's so typical the assumption everyone has made about the nature of our relationship. Our standing 'decision' about our sex life would preclude such a thing happening in any event and I, for one, am glad we still abide by it.'_

McGonagall started to commiserate and then stopped herself. Instead she replied, "Probably not a bad idea all around. Given the two of you and how strong you each are in your respective Houses, we wouldn't want to break the sorting hat, now would we?"

Severus chuckled in appreciation. _'Oh yes, so 'strong'. It would definitely confuse the tatty thing. A Slytherinish Gryffindor mixed with a Gryffindorish Slytherin. What_ would _it do?'_ He gestured to the door. "I expect we need to be getting back to the Dining Hall. Albus must be foaming by now."

They started back to the door to the Dining Room. Halfway there, she stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Severus, he is going to be all right, isn't he?"

He put his hand over hers. "In the long run, Minerva? No, he's dying. Slowly, but relentlessly." Seeing the sudden misting in her eyes, he hastily added, "It won't be tomorrow or any time in the near future, but it is coming. You know Harry will do all he can to keep Albus with us for long as possible, assuming Albus is comfortable. After that, who knows? The main thing is that right now we treat him no differently than we always have. Well, within limits, of course." He looked back at the plate of burnt liver. "If only to preserve our hides. He can be a very mean old man when he chooses to be so."

She followed his gaze to the 'revenge' Dumbledore had sent him and laughed.

They started walking back to the door. In parting, he said, "I wouldn't put it past him to hold on for years just to prove us wrong." He opened the door for her.

Minerva smiled, murmuring, "We can only hope so," and preceded him back to the table. When asked by Dumbledore, she said slyly, "It was as we expected. As if you didn't know already."

Dumbledore had the grace to smile; he did indeed know what it had contained as well as their conversation. It had been most amusing.

As Snape was placing his order for a replacement meal, (he threatened a fate worse than death if it was liver again), Harry arrived and plopped down gracelessly next to him, all out of breath from running from their rooms.

"Hullo, Sev! What'd I miss? Anything interesting?" Severus groaned, shaking his head, while the rest of the table smiled.

* * *

TBC


	7. Part I : Negotiations

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part One : Into Every Life a Little Strain Must Fall  
**Chapter Seven : Negotiations**

**Monday 12 September 2003** (Continued)

With a special impatient feeling in his gut and a pain behind his eyes, Severus stalked with Harry to Dumbledore's office after dinner to continue their conversation and bargaining over the guest list. Harry took one look at the banked fire in Severus' eyes (and knowing better than to disturb it) kept silent about the whole thing--Dumbledore was in for a rough time. As they were about to step on the bottom tread to go up, Harry laid his hand on Severus' arm, halting him. Severus eyed him, the fire about to erupt.

"Severus--far be it for me to interfere when you have a good head of steam worked up, but please keep in mind, er, his--well, you know what I mean."

Severus eyed him dubiously. "I have no intention of attacking him; however, I do not intend to give him any special treatment. He is as obnoxious today as he was yesterday, probably more so because he knows what a marshmallow you are--I assure you, he _will_ use this to his advantage." He switched to his doddering old man voice and continued, "'Poor little Albus, don't get me excited, do what I want so I'll feel better'." He went on cynically, "Harry, he is, if nothing else, a consummate manipulator. I, for one, do not intend to get taken by his dissimulation."

Harry waved his hand in dismissal. "I know that. I was referring not to your machinations, but to that glint you have in the back of your eyes. You're pissed off about something. If you really must get mad, take it out on me, all right? You can do whatever else you want, but the only stress I want him to suffer through tonight is that you bested him in a bargain, and he did not get his way."

"Why? There would be little satisfaction in yelling at you." And he proceeded to tell him in great detail all about his tribulations of the day. Harry was trying very hard not to laugh (which helped Severus' temper none) until he got to the part about the Howler, although he omitted the target, knowing Minerva would keep quiet about it.

Harry was exasperated. "Oh Merlin, another one? Why do they keep sending them? When _will_ they stop, Sev?"

Severus chortled. "If I knew the answer to that, I would also know the meaning of life and could retire a satisfied and wealthy man." Realising Harry was serious and upset, he ran a hand gently down his face and touched his lips with his fingers. "It's nothing to worry about," he said softly, bending slightly to let his lips follow his fingers. "Surely we've weathered worse than red envelopes from ignorant prats."

Harry chuckled. "Yes, I suppose we have at that." He ran his hand up Severus' arm. "Still, I'm more upset for you--they always make you so angry."

His eyes turned wicked. "Ah yes, but only you and Albus can make me yell."

Harry grinned. "If you'll not yell at me, then you're to yell at no one." Severus snorted in derision. "You brought this on yourself, you know.

Snape was incredulous. "I fail to see how you could come to that conclusion even with your normal hop-scotched leaps of logic."

"You're the one who asked me to look at him. Now he's my responsibility. As his Healer, I am asking you not to upset him--stressing him is all right, though." Harry grinned at him.

Severus raised a brow. "There's a difference?"

As Harry drew breath to reply, Dumbledore's petulant voice drifted down to them. "Are you two quite finished discussing me? The night is wasting away--Poppy will have my guts for garters if I don't get to bed at a 'decent' hour--whatever that is." He turned away to go back into his office and they could clearly hear him mumble, "Treated like a child, indeed. 'Eat all your vegetables. You'll not get your dessert until you finish your food. Go to bed early.' Takes all the fun out of life, it does."

Severus and Harry looked at each other and smiled as they rode the stairs to the top of Dumbledore's tower.

* * *

As usual, Albus fussed with the tea things and once again, Severus found himself gingerly sipping tea that was too hot and too sweet. He knew the heat of the liquid was normal--Albus must have a mouth made of dragon-hide the way he drank the scalding brew, but he suspected the sweetening was another subtle revenge for the strictures of his new diet. He blew over the top of his cup, smiling as he heard Harry choke on the saccharine drink.

Albus took a long drink of his tea and sighed in satisfaction. The spoon rattled as he set the cup and saucer down convenient to his hand. Reaching into the drawer to his side, he pulled forth a rolled parchment and set it carefully on the desk. With a quick spell, the foolscap unrolled, lying flat on the worn wooden surface. It was enchanted in such a manner that any party reading it saw the words facing them in a size fitting for their sight. He next laid a primed quill in the center of the document and with another quietly spoken incantation, the quill stood upright, ready to do his bidding.

He settled in his desk chair and folded his hands calmly in front of him; Severus casually leaned back in his wingback, his arms and hands relaxed on the cushioned arms. Twinkling blue eyes over half-moon spectacles met Severus' obsidian stare under drawn brows. The headmaster tilted his head even as Severus dipped his in a nod; the line was succinctly but silently drawn as both men prepared to haggle.

Harry was fascinated. He'd never seen a magical contract before and realised Dumbledore was playing this game in earnest--he would not allow either of them to wiggle out of it later. He leant forward over his crossed legs to watch the evolving spectacle. He had no intention of joining in this contest of wills; he surmised neither one of them would appreciate what they would perceive as interference, although it would not stop him from calling a halt to the proceedings if he thought Albus was being hurt by it. He chuckled inwardly, allowing only the smallest of twists to his lips--he suspected Albus would thrive on it. He also had a good guess as to who was going to get the better end of the deal.

Dumbledore began. "This is the list of guests I propose for the reception on the 26th of October, following your nuptials. In return for your unequivocal acceptance of the people on this list, I am prepared to give you a leave of absence, with pay, from the ending of the reception at one minute before midnight of the 26th to sometime before the dinner hour on the 31st; I would have you back in time for the full Hallowe'en feast. I am also prepared to hire Professor Provecto Septimius as a substitute teacher for your Potions classes while you are away AND to give him free rein in any way he sees fit to run your classroom."

He chuckled lightly, knowing the carrot in front of this particular horse was very alluring indeed. "A most generous offer, if I do say so myself, with such a small price to pay; however, I understand you take exception to some of the members on this list?" He barely suppressed the hint of amusement in his voice.

Mindful of Harry's words before coming up, Severus held back his biting retort. "Yes, we do object to several of the guests, but most importantly, we strenuously object to the presence of the Malfoys--father as well as son. There is too much water under the bridge with them; we would have them struck from the list."

At that moment, Fawkes squawked from his perch. Phineas, leaning on the side of his frame, roused from his slumber and, yawning, asked, "What does the blighter want now?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "He's reminding me it is time to take my potion. Since I don't see us finishing anytime soon, I was wondering, Harry, if you would you please get my dose from Poppy and tell her I may be a while so she won't fret."

Not in the least bit suspicious, Harry replied, "Certainly, Albus. Is she in the infirmary?" At Dumbledore's nod, he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.

Severus waited a few moments to make sure he was gone and then gave Dumbledore a wicked smile. "That was a brilliant, but flimsy excuse to get him out of the room, old man. What is it you want?"

Just as baldly, Dumbledore replied, "If you don't give in about this one issue and leave the Malfoys on the list, I _will_ tell Harry about all the Howlers you have been getting and hiding from him _as well as_ the blatant threats against him they've contained. If it's any consolation to you, your instincts are right in this--it is better he not know. I will also tell you this--they are tied to the reasons I _need_ the Malfoys to attend beyond what I told you yesterday. I can say no more without revealing my source."

They were still staring at each other, each trying to read the other when Harry came back with the potion. He carefully measured out a dose, trying to ignore the heavy tension between the two men, and handed the cup silently to Albus, who tipped the cup back and drank the contents in one gulp. He sighed as he handed the cup back. "My thanks--it tastes better than I would have credited."

Harry snickered. "Don't thank me, thank Severus--it was all his idea."

Dumbledore's brows raised, his eyes sliding slyly to the side to gauge Snape's reaction. "Severus? Are you suggesting he did something 'nice' for me?"

"No, I'm not suggesting it. I'm stating it. I believe he said something like," he changed his voice to a credible Snape growl, "'Maybe the old bugger will take this better if we add something sweet to it, like those damned sherbet lemons he's always trying to foist off on us.' Or words to that effect." Harry's eyes gleamed mischievously.

Albus chortled, "Now who would have guessed that our esteemed sourpuss over there would even think of such a thing. I suppose I should be grateful for his temporary insanity when he chose my 'damned sherbet lemons' instead of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans in say, Ear Wax or Vomit. That's more your taste, eh Severus?" The eyes staring speculatively at Severus over the spectacles were the wickedest blue.

"Oh give him some credit, Albus," Phineas spoke up. "Ear Wax and Vomit? With the way his potions taste in the first place? It could only be an improvement. I would think sardines and liver would be more to his taste knowing how much he loves them both."

Caught in an open act of kindness did not please the Potions master and the pained glare he shot to the room at large with his muttered, "There _really_ is no need to be so insulting," only made them laugh harder. Phineas snorted and Merlin guffawed. Harry cracked up when the image of Severus' private retribution flashed across his mind. He leaned closer to Severus and replied low, barely audible over the raucous laughter from the others, "Anytime, Sev, anytime."

Ever mindful of the negotiations and with great difficulty, Severus severely limited the mock glare and twisted smile he briefly showed his lover before he looked away, resuming the more expected stormy face. He knew that if he did more, he would probably wind up telling him about the Howlers anyway--he found keeping things from Harry almost as distasteful as someone discovering he was not as nasty as everyone assumed him to be.

In retrospect, he really didn't know why he felt this keen, compelling desire to keep away from Harry the intent of this and other more recent Howlers he'd not told McGonagall about. At first he'd thought it was some lingering effect of his infrequent misguided protectiveness he felt about him, but this ran deeper. For some reason, his instincts were screaming that Harry should not know the contents were directed specifically at him and Dumbledore's confirmation rang true in his mind. _'Perhaps I am afraid his usual Gryffindor foolhardiness will override his better Slytherin tendencies? I don't know why I am so concerned over it--he has not the same bent for revenge or retribution as I.'_

He rode out the fading remnants of merriment and when things had calmed down stated, "Very well, Albus, we concede the point--the Malfoys will stay on the guest list." The quill flew across the page as his concession was noted.

Harry gasped. Shocked at this sudden change from their agreement with no additional discussion, he stared dumbly at Severus, who could feel his growing suspicions. A series of rapid images sent from Harry flitted briefly across his mind, the first being the memory of Fawkes on his perch. The second was of Harry in the infirmary getting the potion from Poppy. Next came one of Severus sitting in the chair, sweating heavily, with a shimmering hammer over his head. With the flash of lightning across a black blank of anger that followed it, Severus was left with no doubts of Harry's resentment towards Dumbledore and his dawning suspicions that he'd just been adroitly 'handled' by the older wizard.

Severus could feel Harry's growing bitterness at the purposeful mission from the room so Albus could negotiate in private, but was grateful Harry chose, for once, to remain silent about it. He was even more relieved the displeasure was directed at Dumbledore and not him, Harry making the correct assumption that Severus had been forced into it. Severus continued calmly, despite the roiling tension coming from his partner. "We also need to discuss the inclusion of Fudge on the list. I believe Septimius was your payment for his presence?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, Harry and I did discuss it, but no agreement was reached."

"Fine. We will accept Fudge at the reception, but only if you remove the time stricture from our trip to Hana and extend it to one minute before midnight on Sunday the 2nd of November AND you keep Septimius away from the reception."

"Very well--a bit difficult to manage, but I think it can be arranged." The quill once again made its mark on the parchment.

Bombarded by Harry's continued aggravation, Severus began his opening salvo. "However, having made these points," he paused and gauged Dumbledore's sudden frown, "We will not abide the inclusion of the other guests we discussed the other day and to that I would include your recent addition of Bellatrix Black to the list, making it 48 guests we will brook no argument over." He felt Harry relax a little.

"Gentlemen, I can certainly understand your reluctance in including Bellatrix and am prepared to strike her and the other fifteen remaining Death Eaters from the list; however, the others are mostly Aurors and a few prominent members of the Ministry. Their part has always been above reproach and there is no reason to exclude them." Albus cleared his throat--he'd not been expecting so many to be removed.

Severus honed in for the kill. "Albus, let me make this plain. Those 'Aurors and prominent members of society' have, even now with Arthur in place, tried everything in their power to incarcerate me in Azkaban. While I might 'forgive' them their repeated attempts against my person, I have no intention of inviting _anyone_ who signed that 'Writ of Arrest for Moral Turpitude' issued when news of Harry's and my relationship became common knowledge. I assure you, they might even be relieved at their lack of invitation."

"Severus, I disagree--"

He never got to finish as Snape continued, "If you don't concede this point in our 'discussion', I will tell Poppy where you keep all your forbidden sweetmeats and just how often you're 'cheating' when she's not watching."

Dumbledore grunted his displeasure, but the quill sailed across the parchment crossing out all 48 names.

Harry was very glad to be rid of Sirius' murderer, Bellatrix; he would stomach the Malfoys and Fudge if he had to, but Bellatrix was over the top. He was beginning to sense Dumbledore was upset and tiring--this last exclusion of guests had dismayed him deeply for some reason. He was about to start calling it a night when Albus raised his hand. "One more thing we have not discussed."

Severus eyed him suspiciously. That Albus had saved this for last did not bode well. "Well?" he asked sceptically, glancing over at Harry who shrugged.

"If you want me to officiate, you both will need to write an Epithalamium for the ceremony." Dumbledore's sly smile belied the seriousness of his words.

Harry and Severus began speaking at once, "You can't--No way--be serious--are we going to do that!"

"I assure you, I am most serious. An Epithalamium, in five verses each, for the traditional Closed Form," he gloated.

While Severus ranted, at great length, on the unfairness of the request, Harry noticed Dumbledore fumbling in the pocket of his outer robe. His face was slowly graying, his breathing audible. Covering his mouth while he yawned, he hid a small pull of pain across his face as he, with a surreptitious hand movement, deftly popped a palmed _Digitalus_ ball into his mouth. While he obviously willed the pill to work quickly, Harry also made a mental note to have Poppy keep loose track of the number of doses Albus was taking per day. A few moments later, Dumbledore's colour started returning to his face, although he was making a conscious effort to control his breathing. Severus was so involved in his diatribe, he'd noticed nothing.

Harry's steel was showing again as he fixed Severus with a baleful eye. He rudely interrupted him mid-word. "That's it, Severus. No more tonight." Ignoring Severus' raised brows and noise of protest, he turned to Dumbledore, saying gently, "We will do the Epithalamium, as you wish, in the traditional manner, with smiles if need be."

The quill added the clause with a happy flourish and then rested on the parchment. Its work was finished.

Both men started to complain--his abrupt suspension of their wrangling ruined their fun.

Harry was adamant and gave Severus a significant narrowing of his eyes. "Not another argument. Both of you. Severus, you _know_ better and you--" he turned an implacable gaze over to Albus, "--you behave and settle down. I'll not have you undoing all my work so soon." Dumbledore drew breath, the protest clear on his face. Harry countered, "Argue with me more and I'll tell Poppy _why_ it was necessary for us to stop this evening." At Dumbledore's rebellious expression, Harry graced him with a smug smile. "Severus is not the only one with a spot of extortion on his mind."

As the document rolled back up and with a flash, duplicated, Severus nodded, realising something must have happened without his notice and acquiesced with nary a protest--he knew Harry would not have interfered had it not been serious. "Perhaps I did get carried away just a bit." He sheepishly apologised to Dumbledore.

Albus finally erupted. "Enough is enough. Will you two stop it!" he roared. "I am not some doddering idiot with both feet in the grave."

Merlin, having silently watched the whole exchange, rolled his eyes and remarked to a sniggering Phineas, "How are we doing on squeezing some space on the wall for him?"

Phineas barely contained his mirth, "Oh we found the place all right, next to Dolly over there. She's agreed to keep an eye on him in case he gets forgetful."

Harry glossed over his concern and stealing a glance at Phineas with a wink, drolly quipped, "My Albus, such concerned company you keep." He turned to Merlin and remarked, "Just make sure you get security mounts--he has a tendency to meander, you know." As Albus sputtered, he continued, "Of course, if you'd rather, we could just tag him so when he starts wandering, we'll always know where to find him."

With his mouth twitching under his beard, Albus stood and waved his hands at them. "Out! Out! Both of you--before I hex you out of here."

Severus smiled as he took their copy of the parchment from the desk. He gestured to Harry, who was suppressing his laughter, to precede him and with dim chuckles, they left the office.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and glared at the portraits on the wall, contemplating the more novel uses of the _Desinum_ spell. Phineas, in particular, looked thoughtful. "Tell me, friend, how are you going to continue sneaking about if everyone is watching you so closely?"

Shrugging, Dumbledore replied, "I'll manage, I suppose, although this comes at a most inconvenient time."

"So does the illness," Merlin chimed in.

Albus chuckled, "Yes, there is that--although I have to admit, after Harry got done yesterday, I've not felt this good in a decade--Poppy certainly didn't complain." He laughed at the uncomfortable looks on the portraits' faces. "I am more concerned about security. Although the exclusion of the Death Eaters bothers me somewhat, I am unsure how I am going to protect those two and the rest of the guests with most of the highest ranking and most powerful Aurors banned from the party."

Phineas' troubled mien brightened. "You could just hire them as guards at the reception," he offered.

Dumbledore mulled the possibility and sighed. "True, I could. Would Aurors of your day take insult at being hired for something to which they should have been invited in the first place?"

"Hmmm. Good point. I suspect yours might be a tad more volatile than mine--they have a larger stake in the whole mess. Mine was a simpler time; we'd no Voldemort to fight, only ourselves." He chortled at the remembered family conflicts. His 'time' had been when the House loyalties had started to divide.

"Albus?" a soft voice asked from behind him.

It was Dolly, a quiet headmistress from before Phineas; she'd not held the position long before she died of poisoning by her successor (who being consigned to the walls of Azkaban, was the only headmaster portrait not in Dumbledore's office). Always soft-spoken, the others thought her slow, but he knew she just liked to look at all the sides first before speaking. "Yes, my dear," he coaxed gently.

"Methinks there is a simple solution to your conundrum. If I understand your reasoning, you need the former Death Eaters in attendance so you can keep them well in sight and the Aurors present for a visible show of strength, _n'est-ce pas_?" At his grunt of assent, she continued. "Then I know how you can get both groups to the party without offending anyone." She tilted her head to the side, her shyness evaporating with the wicked light in her eyes. "Excepting Harry and Severus, of course."

He frowned and with his hand, shushed Phineas who was about to make one of his infamous snide comments. Albus encouraged her to continue. "Oh? How so?"

"Just invite them anyway," she stated firmly.

"Pardon?"

"Invite them anyway."

He froze--it was too easy.

She gained confidence. "Oh, Harry and Severus will be incensed, but honestly--what are they going to do about it? Thrash you? Hex you into next week? Denounce you in front of the whole assembly? Stop the ceremony held the night before? Delay the honeymoon to exact their revenge?" She stopped briefly and glared at Phineas' knowing snort. "They might refuse attendance or leave as soon as they discover your subterfuge; however, with the serpent in the henhouse, as it were, no one will notice their absence in the confusion and in any event, you would be happier if they were well away. They might stay out of spite and demand more concessions later. However, one has to ask whether you really care about future payments you may not be alive to fulfill?"

With a deceptively winsome smile, she continued. "If one thinks on it, their range of viable options is quite limited. All you need do is apply your native talents to keep them from learning about it until it is too late for them to do anything about it. She shrugged eloquently. "No, I say do as you please and mitigate the damage after it's done. _Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coûte._ Severus, especially, will bear close watch after they return. His reputation for vengeance and cunning is well-earned, and he'll be more subtle the longer he waits to exact it. Harry will forgive you in time--he always does and, unless I miss my mark, he'll obtund the worst of Severus' machinations."

Dumbledore's appreciative chuckles, quickly descended into guffaws as he began to fully grasp the simple elegance of her idea. "Oh, Dolly, it will be worth dying just so I can finally climb in your frame and give you a sound kiss!" She turned a becoming shade of pink, embarrassed but pleased. "This is absolutely splendid." He rubbed his palms together in glee. "Good night, my friends, we have much to discuss on the morrow. So many plans to make." And with a bow, he left his office, his step jaunty, his thoughts on Poppy when he got home.

* * *

_"n'est-ce pas?"--French--loose usage--"Is that not so?"_  
_"Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coûte."--French--"It is only the first step that costs."_

TBC


	8. Part I : The Girls

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part One : Into Every Life a Little Strain Must Fall  
**Chapter Eight : "The Girls"**

**26 September 2003**

If Harry thought Albus and Severus were hard negotiators, he quickly revised his opinion when he started working with "The Girls". Poppy, Minerva, and Hermione were not only intent on getting their way in the fine details of his nuptials, they also had a secret arsenal at hand--feminine wiles--which they plied with heartfelt abandon.

The unexpected knock on the door to their chambers came while they'd been sharing their habitual snifter of brandy before the fire. Harry had just drawn breath to tell Severus about his latest and, as it turned out, final meeting with "The Girls" that afternoon. Severus, grumbling about the interruption, opened the door to a woeful looking Dumbledore. His brows raised, he exclaimed, "Albus! What are you doing here?"

"It's so good to see you, too, Severus." Patently waiting for an invitation to enter (but receiving none) he cleared his throat and managed to keep his dignity while looking sheepish. "Poppy 'locked' me out," he said indignantly, still standing in the dungeon hallway.

Given that no one could lock-out the Headmaster from anywhere in Hogwarts, Harry assumed it must have been 'voluntary' compliance. He joined them at the door, one inside, one still outside, shaking his head in mock dismay. "So you're the handy target for the evening?"

Albus smiled. "So it seems, since I can't think of a single thing I did to warrant her ire. I admit, it doesn't take too much to ignite her temper, but usually she yells a little, I apologise (for everything--no matter what--I've found it's easiest), she acts contrite, and then we make up. Fairly routine, but tonight she's really brassed off. Enough so she's not listening to reason, not that she really does in any event."

Harry chuckled wickedly and remembering Severus' manners, invited Dumbledore in. Severus sniffed sullenly and, after closing the plain wooden door in the Headmaster's wake, followed them into the sitting room where he veered off to the sideboard. Harry rearranged the furniture so there was room in front of the fire for the third chair Albus summoned while Severus got him a snifter of the brandy, refilling theirs as well, and sat down expectantly. He'd not long to wait.

"So what happened that she tossed you out?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore shrugged, sipping the brandy in undisguised relief. "I'd no more stepped through the door when she started whinging about the meeting you had with them today, shoved a piece of marked parchment in my face, and when I told her I thought all the cross-outs seemed fine and reasonable, she really got her knickers in a twist. Suddenly I was 'insensitive' and 'uncaring' and a whole lot of other 'ins' and 'uns' and before I knew it, I was back out in my office with the door shut behind me."

"Surely that can't be all," Severus said, his brow raised.

Dumbledore tilted his head, the mischief clear in his eyes, "Well, I think I might have said something like 'What's the problem? It's their wedding after all.' Or words to that effect. Maybe that did it."

Harry started chuckling. "Er, well, yes, we had a 'meeting' today--a meeting of the minds, that is--our last one. I don't think they were very pleased with me. How did Minerva say it? Oh yes, I was not--'cooperative'."

Dumbledore looked sympathetic. "That bad, eh?"

Harry shrugged, "Well, not for me. I did give 'The Girls' a bit of bother, though. And I'm quite sure they want to murder me. It truly wasn't anything too different from our previous talks."

"Oh, I know you've annoyed them before-repeatedly, if one really listens to Poppy's grousing (which, mind you, one does not)--but what did you say to them, Harry, that was so different?" he asked, sipping his brandy. "She was in a right snit before I walked in the door and I got caught in the--what is it you young people say?--lashback?"

Severus had been watching this exchange with interest and some growing irritation of his own. "Harry, why didn't you mention this to me earlier?" he asked.

Harry could 'feel' Severus rein in his annoyance and it amused him greatly, which he made sure Severus knew about in his own way. "From the beginning you said 'I leave it up to you--I don't want to hear about it,' so I took you at your word." He eyed him over his glass. "Right?"

Severus grimaced. "Hmmm, yes, I suppose I did say that, but I didn't know you would be so literal about it."

Dumbledore smiled and exclaimed, "Now that was an honest exchange! Tell me, why do women have to complicate it so much?"

Severus chuckled, "I think we've had this conversation already along with most of the men on the planet. Why do women do anything they do? It defies any known logic."

Albus almost choked on his brandy. "Logic? You assume perhaps too much, my friend, linking 'logic' with 'women' in the same thought."

Harry spoke up. "Oh, they have logic--convoluted, but if you follow it closely, it makes a queer sort of sense; that's not really their problem. It's--well--hmmm, how do I say this? They won't admit when they're wrong. Or least in this matter they wouldn't. I was very cross with them today--after all the times we'd met, they weren't listening to me (something, by the way, they're quick to point out when _we_ don't do it) and were bent on doing it their female way with their female traditions. They were so convinced they were right, they ignored everything we wanted. I merely disagreed."

He eyed them both and then, coming to an obvious decision, asked, "One thing bothers me, though. I ask you, do I _act_ like a girl?"

"No!" and "Absolutely not," were the simultaneous replies he got from both of them. Severus added with some irony, "I think I would've noticed by now. I'm not a misogynist, but we would not be going through all of this if you even remotely acted 'like a girl'." He eyed Harry with significance over his glass; a graphic image from one of their more memorable nights together floated lazily into Harry's head; he grinned while dampening the instant arousal it brought.

"Thank Merlin for that. I didn't think so, but they tend to think of me--us that way, and had me a bit worried there. They have some pretty weird preconceptions about both of us, who we are, what 'roles' we take, and what we 'do'--it's funny most of the time, but recently I've felt defensive. And surprised. I thought they were a little more liberated about 'roles' in a relationship since none of them are exactly the 'stay-at-home-and-raise-the-little-kiddies' types. It made me madder than hell they should think we would be any less independent."

Both men commiserated with him, Albus going so far as to comment, "It must have been dreadful."

Harry shrugged. "It wasn't _too_ bad in the beginning. I mean I tried to approach it all with reason and good humour, but one thing I've learned over the last two weeks is you can't negotiate fairly with them and you can't let them know you're upset. They have this--way--of twisting your words around so that even though you're right, you're wrong, and it's all your fault. It's a game to them, I think--even Hermione plays it, and she's supposed to be one of my best friends. I almost feel sorry for Ron."

Albus chuckled. "Pity me too, Harry. Poppy probably taught Hermione."

"Poppy is, well, Poppy. She can reduce anyone to ashes with 'the look'--you have my sympathy." At Severus' snort, he finally took a swig of the brandy and resumed. "And McGonagall! Damn, she looks over those glasses of hers with that 'Head-of-House-I-remember-when-you-couldn't-wipe-your-own-sorry-arse--how-dare-you-disagree' look. It makes you feel like you're eleven all over again, standing in the Great Hall about to be sorted."

"An act she has perfected with everyone, I assure you," Severus commented. "It drives me into the dungeons when she gets in one of her 'snits'." He thought about it; the two sips of brandy went down easily. Finally, he asked, "If they're this upset, you obviously won--so what did you do?"

Harry's wicked face was almost answer enough. "Nothing more than I normally do. First I play dumb--not too hard to do with the subject matter since I don't know my arse from my elbow with it. That works about one in four. If I'm still unsuccessful, I threaten to walk out and do it myself--that usually gets apologies. And when all else fails, I strongly remind them I'm a man, I'm gay, but I'm not 'one of The Girls', and they presumed too much. That either earns me murderous looks, or stunned surprise, like they forgot it or something. But they usually cave or retreat in embarrassment and confusion. Works almost every time."

For the next hour, Harry kept them in stitches with his tales of their 'discussions' and how they'd come about in the first place.

When Poppy had first approached them about the planning, the day after the handfasting, she caught them at a time when they were struggling to control the internal and external havoc inflicted by the bond. Only half aware of what she'd been saying, they'd readily agreed to let her 'handle things' just to get rid of her so they could go back to their more pleasant distractions. And it had almost worked.

"I suspect Poppy had known all along how little we cared for anything else at the moment and used her momentary advantage to gain some ground while we were still befuddled," Harry said on a laugh.

Severus pulled back his head and sniffed. "Who was befuddled? Not me."

Albus gave him one of _his_ 'looks', saying, "You were both fuzzled and yes, Poppy has the instincts of a niffler when it comes to smelling out weaknesses when she's on a 'mission'. You would have been prime picking for her. When did you finally cotton on to the problem?"

Harry chuckled, "About two weeks ago when she sent their first draft."

Severus shook his head, "It was the most inane drivel I'd seen since the First Year Hufflepuff essays two years ago. I had no time to argue with them--"

"--So I stupidly volunteered to help. I mean it was obvious our strategy of just letting them 'get on with it' had backfired. Based on what they'd outlined, I'd need Arthur to walk me down the aisle in my new, snowy white robes holding a bouquet of red roses while I discreetly wept for joy. Echh! The thought made me sick, so I told Severus not to worry about it. My schedule was fairly flexible at the time and I would take care of it."

Dumbledore slyly glanced at his friend. "What did Severus say?"

Noticing where Albus was sneaking a look, he replied blandly, "Not much. Just snorted and gave me that 'Go ahead--it's your life,' look." Harry laughed inside, thinking that while Severus had never thanked him out loud, he'd managed to convey his gratitude that night quite well.

"Taking Care of It" had turned out to be much easier said than done, as he'd soon found. At first he'd talked to Poppy and tried to tell her their wishes, thinking that would be the end of it. He asked her to send him regular updates and had been relieved when she didn't feel he needed to be involved any more than he wanted to, but when he saw the first revised draft he knew he would have to actively participate. He'd tried to spare Severus the agony of their almost daily gossipy 'meetings'. It was during these times he began to truly see the difference between men and women; he found them confounding and over time, as his irascibility grew, utterly resistable.

They in turn learned a few 'useful' things about Harry. The first being that all the female machinations used to great effect on other men of their acquaintance eventually made him laugh or left him irritated, depending on their strategy. And strategy it was, he soon found out; he'd never thought he'd be using his earlier 'The Art of War' lessons in quite this manner--and with such wily opponents. He soon discovered it was an ancient game with unwritten rules he made up as he went along, the object being to not only thwart their cunning plans, but to derive some personal satisfaction in besting them. If they cried, he'd hand them a handkerchief and kept a ready supply of them about him. If they pouted, he snickered. If they got angry, he yelled back, measure for measure; he cut them absolutely no slack.

The brandy was going down smoothly as Harry continued his story. "So, today, Poppy asks me about the flowers. I'm sitting there thinking, flowers? So I asked her, 'What flowers?' and she says 'You know, the flowers for the chapel.' And then I'm thinking, chapel? So I tell her my favorite flowers are none--I'm not a bloody girl.

"Too right," Severus replied.

"I thought she was going to turn as red as her namesake. And then she got that 'look'--you know the one I mean--where if she thought she could get away with it, she'd use you as a doormat on a _really_ mucky day."

Dumbledore laughed drily, "Yes, I am somewhat familiar with 'the look'. I get it often enough."

"They're so thick. I must have told them a dozen times--no chapel, no flowers, no attendants, no pictures--even if it is Colin and he promises to 'keep it tasteful'--and no decorations. I was a little miffed with their presumption--they kept bugging me about our 'colour scheme' and seemed to think black and blue is inappropriate. Fancy that? I mean it IS the color of our robes. They seemed to think one of us should wear white (probably me since they all know better than to ask Severus) like I'm a bloody bride. You should have seen their faces when I told them there seemed to be some misconceptions about my 'orientation'--just because I'm gay doesn't mean I know how to colour coordinate--and I don't bottom. I thought McGonagall was going to swallow her lips."

It was quite a picture and Severus helped himself laughingly to more brandy, pouring more in each of their glasses, the level dropping very quickly. He went to the cabinet and got another bottle, just in case.

"Then there was the reception. They wanted to know about the menu. So, I asked them, 'What menu?' That was my first mistake. I'm looking through this--this--feast--they have planned with house-elves serving little platters of fancy food with French names, a cake, speeches, and planned toasts to the happy 'groom and groom'. It would take hours. So I really stepped into it. I was so irritated, I almost forgot my own rules."

His face was flushed with remembered anger and Severus was very glad he'd not been there. He suspected Harry had been much _gentler_ with them than he would have been. "Please tell me we're not going to do any of it." He shuddered.

"No, we're not. The first thing I had to tackle was that 'groom and groom' thing; I told them point-blank there was absolutely no way anyone was to say it or even think it--it was wrong. They could use 'Couple', 'Partners', 'Husbands' (although not 'Husband and Husband'), or better yet--'Severus and Harry'."

"What did they say?" Albus asked, sitting forward.

"They were contrite. I was pretty adamant about it. It's just another example of the way they think about our relationship, like one of us is 'feminine' and the other 'masculine'. It never occurs to them we're two men, in all meaning of the words, who love each other. Silly really--they don't make those kind of assumptions when it's two women pledging each other--they pay attention to the people."

Severus was puzzled. "You mean they think we have a heterosexual relationship, only we're men?" At Harry's nod, he continued, "Well, that certainly explains some things. I mean, in some gay relationships I might think of it as dominant/submissive or top/bottom or maybe even as extreme as feminine/masculine, but it would never occur to me to classify one of them as the 'man' or the 'woman' in the relationship--well, maybe with the queens, I might. But, overall, how can you make that sort of assumption when both partners are men? Even if one dresses like a woman or acts like one, he's still male, still thinks like one. Unless he takes the Changing Potion, that is--then he's a she." He shook his head, "They truly don't understand, do they?"

"That pretty much sums it up. Don't worry, Severus. I explained it to them. In detail. They may never recover, but at least now they know and accept that we're equals.

"I'm very glad of it--you almost make it sound like they think one of is better than the other. That would be unacceptable." Changing back to the original subject, he asked, "What about the menu?"

I told them 'Give us plain food we can eat with our fingers, copious amounts of champagne, and an open area through which Severus and I can escape when the urge to shag gets too strong and we have to leave.' They were stunned, although I could see Hermione's lips twitching. Then I actually made McGonagall blush when I suggested a magical passage directly to our quarters so we wouldn't be tempted to 'do it' in the hallways."

"You didn't," Dumbledore chortled.

"I'd have paid money to see their faces," Severus smirked.

"Yep, sure did--after all, they were planning on keeping us for a long time at this 'reception' and after listening to them grouse for hours at previous meetings about how 'impulsive' and 'insensitive' men are about such things--even your Poppy, you little devil, you--I thought it a good idea to remind them of all their other comments at other times." He shook his head. "Damn, the things they talk about--there is NO detail too small for them. I think I know the mating habits of half the Wizards in Britain and a few of the Muggles as well. I half expected them to start grilling me about us. As it was, you should have _heard_ the way they carried on about us not wanting children."

Severus gave him a sympathetic glance--he knew where that conversation had probably gone. "That at least is understandable. However, it seems to me just the thought of two men having a baby would, at least on the surface, appear somewhat unnatural."

Dumbledore admirably controlled the slight slur to his words. "What? You don't want any little Snaplings or Potlets running around?"

Severus glared at him. "Surely you jest."

Harry started laughing and then hiccuped. "I suppose I missed a golden opportunity to 'educate' them on the process." He took another sip of the brandy Severus had poured from the second bottle. "Ah well, given the freedom with which they frankly discuss their sex lives, even Minerva, I suppose I got off easy."

He studied the curious, inquiring looks he received from both of them and shuddered as he said, "No, trust me, some things just don't bear repeating." When they continued to stare at him in a 'you owe us' manner, he caved and gave them all the gory details, except for Poppy--Harry had said no more than two sentences when Albus realised his wife had been graphic indeed and he quickly changed the discourse back to Hermione and Minerva. Severus and Harry were, of course, not fooled by the detour, but Severus was satisfied yet repelled by a couple of juicy images Harry sent him including one that indicated Harry would tell him more later. They all had a good laugh and a few blushes over Minerva's 'proclivities', though. Who knew?

At the end, Harry mentioned how curious 'The Girls' had been about their sex life and preferences. "I didn't go into too much detail except to hint that ours was, in some ways, very different than theirs, which for some reason really surprised them, but they think it's very 'sweet' that we like a good cuddle in front of the fire."

Knowing he should be upset that 'The Girls' knew even that much of his 'softer' side, but beyond caring at this point, Severus chuckled wickedly, "You probably should have volunteered every sordid detail--all of it. I am willing to wager they would have only asked once."

"You're probably right." The brandy went down smoothly. "Then they kicked me out. All I said was 'See how simple all this is?' when I told them we would take care of the ceremony--all they need do was show-up. I did allow they could plan a 'simple' reception afterwards with 'simple' refreshments, preferably in English, with no service. I think they would have used my head for a Bludger if I'd stuck around any longer. I could hear them bitching about it all the way down the hall. Bloody birds."

Severus was concerned. "What about the ceremony itself?" he asked.

Dumbledore replied smoothly, "Don't worry. I've been taking care of it. Harry and I've met a couple of times to go over the details. We'll be using an older, lesser-used Closed Form to keep it interesting; I'm sure you've seen it before and I know you've reviewed and approved the guest list of 17 plus ourselves. I'll send you both a parchment soon so you have time to memorise your lines and know where to put in the things you've been working on like the Epithalamium and the Assimilation Vows. We can make changes if you see anything that overly bothers you. Once we finalise it, I'll send copies to everyone along with a list of their tasks a week before. That should give everyone plenty of time to practice their part."

"Don't forget, now that I've rejected 'The Girls' plans, we'll also need to discuss the setting and the other flotsam that goes with it--but no rehearsal--I killed that early on." Harry said, his head a little muzzy from the brandy.

Albus chuckled. "You let me worry about that. I'm quite sure the Room of Requirement will supply everything we need. I'll send you an outline when I send the ceremony details. And I promise--no white wedding frock, no chapel, no flowers, and no rehearsal. All right?"

Severus was reassured--at least one part of the nuptials would be easy and sane. He supposed he could handle a reception afterwards--it would only be their friends, although the reception with its free food and libations were usually all anyone ever remembered in any event. Unless of course Aunt Sophie got drunk and danced on the table. Then it became the stuff of legends; he just hoped theirs would be a quickly forgotten memory.

They'd drunk the brandy dry; it had been very late (or early depending on one's perspective) when Albus finally crept home, assuming Poppy would have cooled down by then.

He'd been very wrong.

TBC


	9. Part I : Just An Interlude

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part One : Into Every Life a Little Strain Must Fall  
**Chapter Nine : Just An Interlude**

**1 October 2003**

"Well, well--what have we here?" Lucius drawled, looking at the plain cream stock envelope in his hands. The quality was superb, the seal on the back, while unfamiliar, was of the finest wax. He broke it open and sipped his coffee while perusing the contents, a small smile growing on his face. "Look, sweets, we have an invitation to a wedding reception."

Bethany Malfoy, looking up from her own mail, and with much practice, gauged her husband's mood about the invitation before replying. He seemed _pleased_ and not in a good way. There was something about the feral gleam in his eyes, the studied insouciance of his pose while reading it that reminded her of a snake about to go after prey just a little too big for it, but it would be oh so fine if it succeeded. She decided to boldly test the waters. "Only the reception, my dear? Not the wedding as well?"

He laughed low in his throat, confirmation for her about his 'mood'--he was after someone. "No, my sweet--however, I am surprised we got even this. Severus must be slipping."

"Severus Snape?" she asked, intrigued despite herself. "Isn't he still living with Harry Potter at Hogwarts?"

"Very good, yes he is; this is an invitation to their wedding reception."

At 21 and enceinte with their second child, Bethany had little to do in her life but take care of Lucius and his house, raise his children, participate in the charities (both Wizard and Muggle) he deemed necessary, keep up with current events (for he expected her to be able to converse intelligently with his associates), and gossip. She loved to gossip (and was quite good at it). He would sometimes spend hours talking to her about the juicy bits she heard from the other bored ladies she met with every day. She knew when he was grilling her for information to which he had no access and so paid particular attention to the things he wanted and did her best to get them for him. Although she'd never met them, Severus Snape and Harry Potter were usually two of those things.

"Really? There hasn't been a breath of talk about it, although if the invitations are going out now, the Banns should have been published weeks ago. I can't imagine they would send out the invitations before the Banns. Oh well, I'm sure it will be the talk of the town," she said in her defence, thinking he might be upset he hadn't heard about it before.

"I think it may come as a bit of a shock to everyone, my dear. It's not often men in their position make this type of statement in public. He must be up to something--I cannot envision him going to this amount of trouble for himself and his intended without there being some kind of benefit. Not that he would impart that to me, in any event; we did not part on the best of terms." His chuckle made her swallow hard. So, as she'd always suspected, this was definitely one of his sworn enemies.

She decided nonchalance about the whole thing was her best course. "I see what you mean about the lack of wedding invitation, then. We are going?" she asked knowing now he would not pass up any opportunity to needle Snape. What she wasn't expecting was what he said next.

"Of course we will attend. Perhaps you would like a new robe for the affair," he told her looking over the table at her. His eyes narrowed, never a good sign. "In fact," his voice slowed, "I think I need to have a little bachelor party for our friends. Get their marriage off to a good start."

She didn't reply; she knew none was needed. She had her instructions--buy a new robe and stay out of it. She was only too pleased to do so. Seeing he was preoccupied with his mail again, she went back to her own, but she never read it, her mind turning.

After 3 years of her own marriage to Lucius Malfoy, Bethany had few illusions about him. He was not cruel, didn't beat her or anything like that--her father, Avery, would not have stood for it, but that did not mean he loved her, held her in any esteem, or was even particularly tender. He just wasn't cruel. To her that is. How he was to others was another matter all together and her loyalties were firm. The house-elves were a good example and she'd taken over them and their work shortly after their marriage if only to keep him away from the poor hapless creatures.

On this matter, his voice and the way he said it made her shiver. It did not bode well for this Snape and Potter.

* * *

**3 October 2003**

The pheasant was perfect, the potatoes a little under-cooked, the snapped beans done to a barely acceptable standard; the rest was unmemorable if not unpalatable. _'I really must speak to the new house-elves about the potatoes and beans. They are very lucky he is so sated this evening or there would be complaints.'_ She ate a bit of her beans and noted he was particularly relaxed this evening; it seemed that the new girl she had obtained for him was pleasing him well enough. The only indication she ever got was when he would brusquely tell her to get a new one. This dalliance, Natalie, had lasted quite a while, so far.

Odd thing that--her father had explained it to her before she was married; while _she_ was expected to be faithful, she could not expect to be able to fill all of her husband's needs and therefore, should he wish it, she was to arrange for 'partners' for him or 'toys' as she liked to call them. And she was to keep quiet about it.

At first this had rankled; she enjoyed sex with him when he wasn't in a hurry. When he noticed it, he'd come home more often and his requests for toys lessened. Really, he was quite considerate in that regard. Whenever he got in one of his "moods", the ones she didn't like, she could usually see it coming and would order him a toy from any number of services available for that sort of thing; evidently the practice was fairly well accepted. He'd come home better for it and never seemed to mind her presumption in this matter as long as she didn't turn him down when he wanted _her_.

When she'd got pregnant, he'd still visited her chamber, perhaps not as often, but still enough to satisfy; however, when she'd started showing, he insisted on no congress. However, once the first child, a girl, was born and she'd regained her figure, he started visiting her chamber regularly again, needing only a few toys for his "moods" now and again. Now she was showing hugely, so she had to find him toys on regular basis--liked his sex every day, he did.

"New house-elves again, my dear?" he asked taking a bite of the potatoes.

She almost panicked and then realised of course he would ask that, he was the reason she had been down two. She still didn't know how he did it; they were supposed to be indestructible. "Yes, love. Actually, I got three this time. You know, to have a spare handy in case you break one again."

At first she thought she'd said the wrong thing with the piercing eye he turned on her, but his huge laugh, his white teeth flashing told her he was pleasantly amused. "I promise, sweets, I'll try to only 'break' them one at a time."

"Thank you. They are somewhat difficult to obtain." She forked a piece of spiced potato in her mouth and winced at the slight crunch.

"Tell me, sweets, what have you heard about the up-coming nuptials of our friends?" He took a sip of his wine.

She knew what he wanted--all the gossip about the invitations, but she was surprised he asked this quickly knowing she'd only had two days to gather information for him. _And why does he always ask me these things right after I take a bite to eat?'_ She swallowed before replying, "There is much speculation, but very little fact at this point."

"What are the facts, then?" he asked, sitting forward.

_'And why are you so eager to know so soon?'_ she thought before answering, "Well, the only thing anyone knows is that the Banns were published somewhere in the United States. Where, exactly, no one can find out. The Department of International Magical Cooperation is run by one of Weasley's lackeys and locked up tighter than a drum. They say security in the issue is quite tight. However, as speculation goes, it has to be somewhere they are well known or else the Banns could not be valid." She sipped her water.

"Is that all?" he asked, disappointed.

"Well, it is said that the marriage received official sanction only two days after the first Bann was published sometime back in August. With Weasley in charge, who knows what concessions were made."

"Sanction? What kind of sanction?" he asked, interested again.

She shrugged eloquently. "I'm sorry. I've not had time to find that out, but I will try. Rumour has it they may procreate if they wish, but that type of sanction has not been handed down in over a century, so I assumed it to be only rumour."

"Maybe, maybe not. I can see the Ministry offering it if only because Potter is the last of his father's line and Snape isn't too far behind. Both bloodlines stand to die out with each of them. I wonder, could this be a marriage of convenience?"

"With a Closed Form? I think not," she replied with conviction.

"Closed Form. They are using a Closed Form?" He sat forward, his brows raised almost to his hairline.

"Yes, did I forget to mention that? It's the only official thing anyone could get their hands on--the application. That's how they knew about the Banns. It only discloses the country, though."

He sat back thinking, so she went back to eating her dinner, now quite cold. She cast a warming spell and ate as quickly as she dared. She knew he would want to talk more, but she and baby were hungry.

A house-elf approached him with trepidation. Lucius barely noticed her, but waved his hand indicating she could take his plate. He eyed her as she left the room noting her tea towel was cleaner than most. He put it out of his mind. "August you say?"

"Hmmmm?" she dared, chewing on a bit of pheasant.

He looked at her and chuckled. "Keeping you and number two away from your meal am I, my sweet?"

She swallowed and said, "No, not really. I will manage to eat all I require at some time. The evening is long and there are always warming spells."

"Such a trouper. What I wanted to know was, are you sure the Banns were published in August?"

"Yes quite. That is when the handfasting was at least." She thought about it a moment. "Oh!" she exclaimed, figuring out where he was going. "That's awfully soon, isn't it?"

"Yes. Yes, it is, my sweet. It barely makes the 60 day requirement." His eyes narrowed in speculation.

"I wonder what the rush is?" she asked, thinking it over.

"Hmmm. Good question." He pushed away from the table. "Good question, indeed." He gave her a peck on the cheek in passing, well pleased with her information. "I'll just let you both finish your meal in peace."

Relieved, she did just that.

* * *

**4 October 2003**

While he waited on his company in his private study, a snifter of warmed brandy in hand, he reflected that Avery's daughter had been quite a pleasant surprise. While she was not as exquisitely made as Narcissa, dark where his former wife had been pale, Bethany had a graceful daintiness about her that more than made up for it. Well educated, well-read, very French, and smart enough to know when to flash her sharp wit and when not to. And quite passionate to boot. She was a pleasure to bed, her pouting when she obtained his 'toys' (as he'd heard her say once) quite appealing--it was almost enough to forswear his mistresses. Well, all but Bellatrix, who still continued to warm his bed whenever she was in the mood to do so. He made sure that was as often as _he_ liked.

No, she was nothing like he'd expected. Surely, not as much fire as Narcissa, but Bethany still got what she wanted--she was as manipulative as he was, the difference being she was careful to make sure he knew she was doing so. And she knew how to gauge his moods well. Her comment last night about the house-elves still brought chuckles--it was very well aimed. However, _he_ had not 'broken' the two elves as she thought--Maldy had done that for him as soon as he'd found out they were working for Dumbledore. _'Impressive he managed to get someone in so close for so long. When will that wretched man die?'_

Not too much later, Avery and Peter arrived at the mansion. He sent his personal house-elf, Maldy, who had been with him since he was a boy, to go fetch Draco down as well. Avery gave him a quick report on their movements in Europe while they waited for his son.

Soon all were present, Maldy inconspicuous at the back of the room, ignored as Lucius had planned. "I'm sure you have all heard by now that our dearest friends and colleagues, Severus Snape and Harry Potter are to be wed in three weeks." He paused at Avery's snort. "I have been thinking that we should, at the very least, give them a little present. Something they will always remember."

Avery chuckled, and Lucius knew he was thinking of all the little 'gifts' he would love to give the Potter brat, and Severus he couldn't stand; he just wanted to kill the traitor, messily and with little finesse. Or so he'd said on several occasions.

_'Yes, he will be a good one to carry out the second part of my plan,'_ Lucius thought as he watched the obvious thoughts going through their heads. "I've learned a few things about this wedding." He proceeded to tell them the information given to him by Bethany last night. "It has also been confirmed that this is a _love-match_," he sneered, "and it appears Dumbledore has rushed the standard waiting period because there is something significant about the date--something that will strengthen them." He paused gauging their reactions--they were cautiously upset. He went on, "I am assuming you feel the same way I do about that. I find it unacceptable."

Pettigrew, who to this point had been a blank, asked, "How do we know this information is accurate? It seems a bit far-fetched. I mean, maybe it has to do with something else entirely."

Lucius wanted to hex him. _'How like the little rat to question me. Too bad I really need him.'_ However, he'd learned his lessons well from his former master--cursing the help did not buy loyalty and only got you killed in the end.

Avery spoke up, "No, it sounds like something Dumbledore would do. He's always been one for his fortune-telling. I'm not saying he's right, mind you, but it sounds like him."

"True Avery, only too true. And at this point I am not sure I want to take a chance that the information is wrong," Lucius answered him.

Draco had kept silent so far. He knew where the information had come from and mindful of the truth his father had told him last year at his own engagement--_"...there is an amazing untapped network out there that could ferret out secrets faster than any spy and it lives in our homes and sleeps in our beds. Gods help us if they ever find how powerful they really are with all the information they have..."_--he was not inclined to question the source. Instead he asked, "What is it you want us to do?"

"Ah, finally! A practical question. It's very simple. Peter, I want you to be seen. Perhaps at Diagon Alley where one of Dumbledore's little spies can see you. I want you to leave a trail, not too easy to follow or they'll be suspicious, but enough of one that they will think you've been sloppy and will be able to find you. Avery can help you there as well as supply you with the Portkey."

Peter knew better than to question it.

"Avery, you and Draco are to wait at the ambush point. I leave it to your capable hands to figure out where to do this. Once Dumbledore sends Snape, you are to incapacitate him and any others with him and then bring them to the hidden chambers here."

"How can we be sure Dumbledore will send Snape?" Avery asked reasonably.

"Actually, I think he will send both Snape and Lupin. They are only two of a handful remaining who would recognize Peter on sight and he wouldn't dare risk the Potter brat. The rest only know him from pictures. He will not want to take the chance on losing him."

Avery nodded. "When do you want this done?"

Lucius smiled evilly as if the answer was obvious. "The day before the wedding. I want the three of you to hold Snape until after this auspicious wedding date. I am thinking some discomfort for our guests is allowed as we need to show a reason why they're here, but under no circumstances are you to kill them. We're not ready for an all-out attack from Dumbledore yet and that is what we would get if his precious Severus was gone."

They discussed some of the details and after another hour Draco and Peter left while Avery remained, supposedly to go over the European campaign. He made himself comfortable, a long-standing guest in this house.

"Maldy, bring us both a brandy and then stay here," Lucius ordered.

The house-elf complied and with brandies in hand, Lucius chuckled. "Of course, you know that's not all I want, don't you, Avery?"

"Well, I admit, I thought the whole plan a little soft coming from you, but I figured you knew what you were doing," he temporized, knowing he was treading dangerous ground. Lucius was not someone he fucked with.

"Always know the right thing to say, don't you, Avery?" He took a sip of his brandy. "However, this time, you are quite correct. I do know what I'm doing and have some other things in mind." Avery wisely said nothing. "I have something slightly different in mind for Professor Snape. You may play with anyone he brings with him, play not kill, mind you, but Snape? I want him broken."

"Ah, a little trip down memory lane with my 'Lady', sir?" Avery was positively glowing with anticipation.

"Excellent idea!" He turned to the house-elf. "And in the meantime, Maldy, you will sneak into Hogwarts and kill Mr. Potter."

The elf nodded his head repeatedly, saying, "Maldy will do what the Master wants. Maldy can get into Hogwarts for master. How is Maldy to kill Harry Potter?"

"With Esmerelda, of course." He smiled secretly. A most insidious weapon, his Esmerelda.

Avery chuckled, wheezing. "Do we get to tell Snape that his precious is gone?"

"Oh, I would certainly hope so. Wouldn't do to not to give the former spy some information. Make sure he's well 'softened' when the news comes. I want him to 'feel' his loss--before they break the handfasting. And maybe, just maybe, if we're very lucky, he might even lose his mind."

_'Or at the very least, his spirit.'_

* * *

**End Part I  
Continued in Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes**


	10. Part II : Let the Game Begin

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Ten : Let the Game Begin**

**24 October 2003**

9:12 pm

Wide awake, Severus kept telling himself it was too early to go to sleep, and while his mind firmly believed this, his body remained sceptical. He heartily wished his brain would, for once, just shut up and listen to the sensible argument his tired body made, for the morrow promised to be a busy day filled with all the little last minute preparations one did on one's wedding day. And in the evening he would join with the man lying snug in his arms, fast asleep. Lucky sod. Given his current insomnia, he almost envied him; he suspected it would be hours before he finally followed him.

Resigned to his sleeplessness, he chuckled softly, thinking of _why_ Harry was uncharacteristically slumbering when normally they would be in the sitting room drinking a brandy. Paying him back for that little incident under the desk had been most satisfying. The headmaster, however, was not so amused.

He winced, remembering the dressing-down they'd received right before dinner from Dumbledore for such 'unbecoming conduct'. It had taken them a few moments to realise that, while he reprimanded them openly for the report from the young Hufflepuff about their kiss (grossly exaggerated, as they'd thought), he was actually chastising them for the other little interlude as well, although he had the good grace (or cowardice, as Harry had suggested over their rare roast) not to mention it. _'Of course, it was a bit difficult to take Albus too seriously with that roguish smile he kept trying to hide.'_ At the end of Dumbledore's rather genteel tirade, he'd felt more like a schoolboy caught out-of-bounds in the kitchen than a grown man who'd been 'caught' doing things he really shouldn't have been doing. Or at least not in public.

He was still shaking his head at Harry's boldness--sucking him off under his desk in the middle of an essay test. _'What had he been thinking?'_ He grinned in the dark and placed a kiss on Harry's head. _'Who cares what he'd been thinking!'_ Harry was not alone in his fantasies; while the scenario hadn't matched his own exactly, it was close enough to satisfy beyond the obvious conclusions. His 'revenge' this evening had been sweet even if the dish had been served piping hot. Exhausted, Harry had easily succumbed to sleep.

Severus shifted slightly to settle Harry better. Truth was, he was restless, both in mind and body, despite the tempting pull of exhaustion. On the one hand he wanted to continue this rare moment of peace by gathering Harry closer and holding him fast until midnight when he'd promised Poppy that he would retire to another chamber until the wedding; on the other, his body wanted to walk off the antsy feeling pooling in his legs. This hated jitteriness within him was nothing new and was the past source of his nightly prowling; it usually heralded a conflict within himself or, in rarer instances, something outside of himself requiring attention.

But for now it just confounded him--there was nothing he could discern as a cause. Perhaps it was because their nightly routine had been disturbed and would continue to be so? Probably not; he was not _that_ much a creature of habit. Could his promise to Poppy be the cause? He didn't think so, although he'd not wanted to participate in something as inane as following the 'tradition' of not seeing his intended the day of the wedding. Despite their arguments and the spot of blackmail she'd used to finally secure his 'promise', he'd briefly thought of ignoring it anyway, but knew Albus would somehow find out--he always did--and given the events of the last month and his own extortions from the old man, Albus would delight in finding something to turn the tables on him.

It was unsettling, however, the disquieting feeling growing stronger, more urgent. Not even his first fruitless endeavours with the Epithalamium had brought this type of frustrated reaction. Oh, it might have induced the urge to shatter everything breakable within magic's distance, but not this agitated compulsion to _move_. He smiled grimly, thinking of the hours he'd spent writing the thing; time in which he had poured his sorry self onto the parchment, wanting desperately to snatch it back before anyone else could see the depth of emotion he'd invested in the verses. He still wasn't certain he could really say them out loud for everyone to hear, but he supposed he would overcome the hesitancy when the time came. At least it was finished.

The Assimilation Vow had been a different matter altogether. While the Closed Form was quite specific as to the 'elements' required, the actual verbiage was left up to the couple. Given their different natures, he'd expected more difficulty, but in retrospect, the unique spell they'd created the other night to bind the intentions contained in their respective Epithalamia (which they'd not revealed to each other) had been a stroll around the lake. He suspected the ease was due more to the strictures of the Form than any 'cooperation' on their part; there _were_ only so many ways one could say the same thing. And it held power. The two times they'd practiced it, in unison, had sent shivering portents of the final binding through them.

He turned his head and looked at the clock. _'Only a little after nine; it really is too early to sleep. I almost wish I had the heart, or lack of it, to wake Harry just to have him help me while away the time. He would if I asked, but it would be grossly unfair, given how I put him to sleep in the first place.'_

He carefully kept his mind closed lest his unruly thoughts awaken his lover. He snorted, thinking of the first couple of weeks after their handfasting where the strangest things would waltz around in his head like leaves on an autumn wind. Harry had, how could he say it, an _eccentric_ outlook on life and a vivid imagination. While Severus had always enjoyed the bubbling enthusiasm his lover brought to their relationship, one he'd never in his life truly experienced, he'd laughingly agreed with Harry's embarrassed comment one night (after his wayward thoughts had disrupted Severus' teaching, again) that 'This is rather like two people wearing the same pair of knickers when one has to fart.'

And tomorrow night, the sharing would be even stronger. Harder to control or hide. _'Is this what's bothering me? The potential loss of control--again? Honestly, I'd thought the initial intrusion would be worse, but other than sensing Harry's emotions if strong enough and the sporadic images he sometimes sends, it hasn't been too uncomfortable. Although, I must admit to some relief when we finally learned how to wield it purposefully, even if we never quite figured out just how far it could stretch.'_ No, Harry had always been respectful of his privacy--something else was making him uneasy.

He weighed his options. Did he want to go walkabout? Or did he want to stay here? Cold rooms and even more frigid corridors? Or a warm bed with a warmer body? Alone? Or snuggled close with another? Seemed fairly simple when he thought of it that way--Harry and the warm haven they currently occupied won hands down. _'Besides, if I still feel the urge in,'_ he looked again at the clock, _'two hours and thirty eight minutes, I can always do it then.'_ For now, he just wanted a cuddle.

As he was pulling Harry closer, slowly so as not to wake him, an unwelcome buzzing began in his head, sounding like a swarm of angry bees. He waited, hoping it was a fluke, but no, it came again, louder _and_ more insistent. _'This is NOT happening!'_ But it was not his imagination and he knew from long prior experience that if he ignored it, the bees inside his head would start 'stinging' him until he suffered actual pain. He groaned to himself and immediately started to loosen his hold on his lover, preparing to get out of bed. _'Damn him! What the hell does he want NOW?'_

Years since he'd felt it, the summons from Dumbledore was as unmistakable as it was irresistible. Easing away from Harry, he eventually made it out of the warm bed without waking him. Donning winter slippers he kept handy by the side of the bed against the cold stone on his bare feet, he briskly walked, naked, over to the wardrobe, shivering as the chill air stole the bed-warmth off his skin. About to throw on his robes, he stopped and then, in a small act of defiance, threw on an ancient, long, flannel nightshirt that went to the floor and his heavy winter dressing gown. _'I'll be damned if I dress more than this until I know what's going on,'_ he thought, tightening the belt as he made his way to see the headmaster.

* * *

9:39 pm

Striding through the corridors, his slippers loudly slapping the stone flags with each pounding step, he noticed not the two Prefects, one Gryffindor, the other from his own house who, with unusual common sense and self-preservation, dodged out of the way after witnessing his thunderous face and hearing his muttered imprecations. He silently fumed while the stair corkscrewed its way up to the entrance of Dumbledore's office. _'What can possibly be so important to keep me from a full night's sleep the eve before my wedding? This had better be good!'_

He was not the first to arrive; Remus was already sitting quietly, drinking tea with Albus--both were obviously waiting for him. Remus grinned when he saw Severus' state of dishabille. "Hope Harry's not too pissed-off," he knowingly called out with a cheeky wink as Severus crossed the room to throw himself into the other seat. Dumbledore wordlessly slid a hot cup of tea across the desk, snatching his hand back a bit too quickly.

"Harry, unlike myself, is sound asleep." He glared at the headmaster. "As if you didn't know that already. So kind of you to wait."

"Severus, you know I would not have used the Order's summons if it wasn't important." Albus chided him, sipping his tea.

"Well, I certainly hope it is something more important than a belated detention." He took the cup of tea and, after getting a nose full of steam, set it back on the desk to cool.

"Detention?" Remus asked, his brows raising. "What have you been up to now?" Severus, the faintest flush of colour staining his cheeks, wisely said nothing and Remus laughed. "Oh ho! Must have been pretty damn good, then."

With a wicked chuckle, Severus replied smugly, "Oh, it was. _VERY_ good, that is."

"Gentlemen," Dumbledore chastised them, uncommonly sober. "Time is a-wasting. We have business here tonight."

"Later, Severus," Remus shot back, "you can tell me all about it later."

"Not on your life, Wolf," he retorted, turning his attention back to the headmaster.

Dumbledore's reproving glance notwithstanding, Severus could tell from years of reading him that Albus was excited about something. Something he'd found or wanted. In the past, this frequently meant Severus could look forward to some kind of unpleasantness, as he was usually the one asked to 'fetch' it--whatever or whoever it was. Since he'd left his patience tucked in a nice snug bed in the dungeons, he found himself particularly rude as he said, "Out with it, old man. I have a warm bed awaiting me and I would like to reoccupy it as quickly as possible. If you'll recall, tomorrow promises to be a bit busy."

"Not tonight I'm afraid, old friend. Tonight, you and Remus go hunting." Dumbledore paused, Severus was sure for the effect. A quick, narrow-eyed glance at Remus confirmed he was having the same suspicions. What really rankled was that Dumbledore didn't seem perturbed by their reactions.

"Hunting?" Severus snorted with open exasperation. "Albus, the only thing I want to 'find' at this moment is the door to my chambers." Recognising the stubborn line hidden by the small smile on the old man's lips, he asked, "Tell me, what inducement could you possibly offer to entice me--" he shot a glance at Remus "--us to do your bidding?" When he failed to get a response, his tone dropped, silky but menacing. "You cannot command me, anymore; I am no longer a member of the Order, as you well know. I am _through_ with all that," Severus reprehended him. He ignored Remus' stunned face; Albus was still the only one to know he and Harry had resigned several weeks ago--all part of their new understanding with each other. He'd been surprisingly relieved and grateful to let go of that part of his life, although he chafed under the 'conditions' the old bugger had set, even if Harry bore the brunt of them.

"I know, I know. However, I need you and your special skills." Dumbledore paused again for effect. "I have just received word that Peter Pettigrew was spotted at The Jolly Mandrake in Knockturn Alley and is there even now. I want you both to conduct him here. I don't have to tell either of you how important it is we capture him and bring him to justice."

Remus was visibly excited. Even with his best friend gone, he still dreamt of the day he could clear Sirius' name. Not only to see Peter pay the price for his crimes, but also to ensure Harry got the considerable inheritance Sirius had intended for him; it was frozen at the moment due to Sirius' 'criminal' status. There was little time remaining before the Ministry would be able line their own pockets by claiming it as 'restitution' for the damages done. He sat forward on the edge of his chair as if he was going to spring up at any second and leave.

_'Oh wonderful, just what I need. A rabid werewolf,'_ Severus thought as he said, "Peter Pettigrew? Why now? Why tonight? Why did the rat finally crawl out of his hole?" Severus' paranoia was never far from the surface; he was suspicious. Perhaps _this_ was the source of his earlier unease; while obviously not a Diviner, it wouldn't be the first time he'd anticipated one of Albus' little 'games'. Pulled in despite himself, he asked, "And how do we know it's not a trap?"

Dumbledore was smug as he said, "My source is quite reliable."

Severus shrugged, unimpressed. "So was I at one time, but that didn't mean some of the information I gave you wasn't planted, especially towards the end, as we both well know. Be that as it may, assuming you're right, why not send the Aurors after him, Albus? Why us?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Two reasons. One, you and Remus are the only ones out of a handful left who would recognise Peter from actually knowing him. Most of the others of the Order would have to rely on photos and this is much too important to risk to chance, especially if he uses a disguising spell--they could walk right by him and never realise it."

Remus spoke up, "Harry knows him as well. Perhaps we should ask him to come with us."

"NO! Absolutely not!" was cried out almost in panic at the same time as the more calmly spoken, "No, I don't think that would be a wise idea." Dumbledore quelled Severus with a stern glance over his spectacles and continued reasonably, "Harry is not trained for clandestine missions."

Remus looked between the two stony faces and shrugged. "Sorry, it was just a thought."

Seeing Severus' silent sigh of relief, Albus went on. "Where was I? Oh, yes--two. Without solid proof, other than my word, Arthur cannot send the Aurors without the risk of losing Pettigrew forever. Even if he captured Peter and wrung the truth out of him with Veritaserum, he could not mandate him to Azkaban without properly obtained evidence. And he feels even Pettigrew has the right to due process.

Severus shook his head. "But if we capture him and get this 'evidence', just as illegally I might add, and then send him to Arthur--this is more acceptable?"

Remus was incredulous. "Don't cloud the issue, Severus. What's important is we make the bastard pay, not how we go about it!" His vehemence and impatience to be gone filled the large room.

Unruffled, Snape regarded him from hooded eyes. His cool words spoken low hit Remus like ice water. "I am not 'clouding the issue,' as you say. I am trying to clarify matters. Hear me well, _Remus_. Based on our friendship alone _and_ despite the evidence of my own eyes of his insipid grovelling before the Dark Lord, I accepted your word that Wormtail was wholly responsible for the Potters' deaths. I never questioned Harry's assertions that the whining rat, who would soil himself every time Voldemort cursed him, was instrumental in bringing his Master back twice. I doubted him not that the snivelling coward defied his Master not once, but three times to save Harry's life. For that alone, I might even forgive him."

He finally took a sip of the tea, warming a voice already tired and dry. He continued quietly with more than a hint of honeyed steel, the words no less inexorable for their softness. "However, I cannot, I will not, deny him his basic civil rights as a human being without some extremely compelling reasons. I cannot afford to do so. Had others treated _my_ involvement with the Dark Lord in the same cavalier and reckless manner, I might even now be a drooling vegetable, rotting in some forgotten back cell in Azkaban, and we would NOT be having this conversation." He sat back in the chair wondering why he even bothered explaining himself. It never changed anything.

Remus was stunned at the calm words spoken with such fire. Even Dumbledore was taken aback. They regarded him thoughtfully for some moments. Dumbledore finally broke the silence, clearing his throat. "Even so, Severus, despite the appearance of speculation, we know it's true. _I_ have seen it as well. However, you make a valid point. Might I suggest a compromise? Bring him here; I will guarantee his safety. We will question him in any manner you deem fair to the circumstances and if we're wrong we let him go, none the wiser."

"And if you're right?" Severus queried harshly, grinding the words out.

"He goes to Arthur for trial just like any other Death Eater, with the evidence presented as I see fit." Dumbledore patiently waited.

Severus knew Albus was leaving the decision entirely up to him and would not break the long-standing trust they'd held between them for years by ordering him to go--not that he could anymore. Albus might have been devious for years, but, as a fellow Slytherin, he could appreciate the ways he'd got around that trust. However, this was different; it contained subtle reminders of old life debts accrued and past payments not necessarily made in full.

Albus was earnest, showing no signs of subterfuge, and Severus knew how important it was to catch Pettigrew--not because of the Potters, as Harry thought, or Sirius' estate, as Remus surmised, but because of the Dark knowledge Peter alone now carried. Dark magic not contained in Severus' library, nor anywhere else for that matter, except within the confines of a twisted mind. As long as he remained alive and free, with his sycophantic ways, there was always a chance another Voldemort could rise. Peter was not strong enough to survive without someone to lead him, and right now, that person was probably Lucius Malfoy. The thought of Lucius, with his sadistic tendencies, possessing Voldemort's hidden knowledge made him shudder in dread.

And then there was the issue of Harry and his feelings about Sirius to consider. Unhappy with this situation, he knew he would go, if only because he couldn't face Harry if he did not. It was the best choice in a pool of worse ones. _'If I choose to stay and not help, Harry will be relieved, but there would also be a part of him resenting that I had not taken the opportunity to clear Sirius the way I said I wanted to. Conversely, my participation is likely to send him in a tailspin; the backlash of his deserved anger will be fierce. No, I think I would rather face Harry's ire than a lifetime of potential recriminations.'_

Severus sighed, inured to unpleasantness any way he looked at it. "Very well, I accept your conditions, but hear me well, old man--this makes us even." He stared unflinchingly at Dumbledore until he received the firm nod he required. Payment in full upon delivery. "I will assist Remus in catching Wormtail if only to keep him from killing the blighter on sight. His obvious impatience to be away and finally catch the rat looks like it's making him itch." Remus grinned in relief. "Let me gather my things and tell Harry where I'm going and we can be away."

Dumbledore squirmed in his chair. "Ah, Severus, you may not inform Harry where you are going, or why."

Severus growled, "Then we have a problem, Albus. Harry and I have a promise to each other that we will always let the other know where we are when away. I'll not break that promise, even for you."

This was clearly not something Dumbledore had anticipated. He thought hard about it and said, "Very well, leave him a note telling him you've been called away, at my request, and he can consult with me should it be necessary. Will that be acceptable?"

Severus had a bad feeling about this; the last time he and Harry had played with half-truths it had split them apart and even after two months, the healing of their rift sometimes still felt new and raw. "Only if you stick around long enough for him to find you, Albus. I wouldn't put it past you to evade him until we get back. I will not have him worried needlessly."

"And I'll not have him going after you!" Dumbledore retorted sharply.

Letting loose an inarticulate curse, Severus thought, _'Yes, there is that. And Harry would, too. Damn the man for his perceptions!'_ He sighed and surrendered. "That's barely acceptable, but I acknowledge you're right. Harry would come looking for me if I'm not back when he awakes or if he thinks I'm in trouble. Damn you, Albus."

Remus had watched this little exchange with interest but was eager to go. "C'mon, you auld sod. Let's get cracking--we've not much time."

"We've as much time as I feel we have, but I'll be back in a few minutes if only to keep you from your own foolhardiness by leaving without me." He rose from the chair and, with one long, hard-eyed look at Albus, was gone.

* * *

10:25 pm

Getting dressed quickly and silently out of long habit, Severus could not suppress the urgent feeling that this whole escapade was a Very Bad Idea. His instincts were screaming at him to not go, that something horrible was going to happen. He smirked to himself. _'Since when has a little detail like that stopped me?'_

Adrenaline flowing, he pulled on short fingerless gloves over which he strapped his gauntlets, similar to the one's Harry had used, only lighter, more flexible, making sure the daggers within were settled properly; he was never comfortable relying on just one kind of defence. To this he added a stout wooden staff, which he settled into a soft leather belt he tightened around his waist. It was just out of sight, but in easy reach of his hand. He remembered the day he'd got it from Ollivander when he'd turned 19; ironwood, 14" extending to as much as 62", with a dragon heartstring--the same as Harry's. Once gripped in a certain way, it would expand to whatever deadly length he needed. This was his magical weapon of choice as it served as both stave and wand.

Ready, he put on his cold weather travelling cloak, his wand sliding with ease into its holder in the full sleeve. It felt odd to be wearing his fighting clothes again. Going into his study, he wrote the note--only he hedged his bets and defied Albus just a little:

> _Harry--_
> 
> _Pulled out of retirement by Dumbledore to go on one last mission for the Order--we have a chance to cage a certain rodent of our mutual acquaintance. I should be back before you awaken. If you're reading this and you didn't wake with me, go hunt up the old bastard and demand he tell you where I am. Hex him if you have to. He'll know what to do._
> 
> _You know I wouldn't leave if it weren't important and certainly not on a chilly night like this; I'd rather be warm in bed with you._
> 
> _I love you,_
> 
> _Severus_

He hesitated on the last bit; he never ended his notes to Harry like that--it wasn't expected, just understood, and he was concerned Harry might get overly anxious if he saw it. However, given his gut feeling and his previous unease, he couldn't not say it, just in case.

He left the loosely rolled note standing up on the mantel over the sitting room fireplace where they normally left such things when the need arose. Horatio, snug near the banked fire in his warming pillow Harry had made for him last month, watched him place the note there. He sensed his master's tension, but, being a snake, felt no need to alleviate it. He merely observed from his coils under the cover and hissed. Severus didn't notice him and left without a word. Horatio gave the equivalent of a snake shrug and went back to his dozing.

Severus re-entered the bedchamber and stood a moment by the bed just looking at his lover and soon-to-be husband. A rarely-expressed feeling of tenderness washed over him, and he fixed in his memory this peaceful portrait of a rumpled Harry curled around Severus' pillow, nose buried in it as if he were absorbing his smell. He put his knee and hands on the bed and leant in to place a gentle kiss on the side of the face exposed to him. As he was pulling back, Harry partially woke, his eyes blinking sleepily.

"Mmmm? Severus? Why are you dressed?" he asked on a sigh.

He couldn't resist, a sleepy Harry must be kissed. He did so, the soft, pliable lips under his almost his undoing. Very softly he said, "I couldn't sleep, so I'm going out for a little stroll. I'll be back soon."

Harry smiled at him and shook his head. "Mmph. You and your walks. Want some company?" He yawned.

He almost gave it up. Pettigrew was not worth this to him. But he was to Albus and the Order; his honour had been stung. "No love, there is no reason for both of us to lose sleep. I just need some time alone, as always."

"All right," Harry said trustingly. "I'll be here--only put some socks on when you come to bed--your feet are always so cold when you get back."

Severus chuckled. Harry always said that and he always forgot. "Right--socks--I'll try to remember." With another, longer kiss, he tried to convey his love. Harry got the message and kissed him back, his hand snaking out from under the covers, the sleep-warm fingers digging in his hair.

"Sure you want to go walking?" he asked huskily, dreamily aroused despite the hour and what had put him to sleep in the first place.

There was nothing like drowsy love making. _'Gods, I'd like nothing better than to crawl into this bed and make you whimper for mercy, but I'm wasting time,'_ he thought wistfully but said, "I'm sure, love. Be back soon."

"'Night, Severus. 'Love you," he murmured burying his face back into the pillow, already half asleep.

"I love you, too," he whispered backing from the bed.

In honour of his agreement with Dumbledore and knowing Harry would sleep lightly until he came back, he pulled out his wand. Harry never heard nor felt the whispered _"Sopophorus"_ of the sleeping spell Severus cast.

With one long, last look, he turned and was away.

* * *

TBC


	11. Part II : When a King Mates the Queen

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Eleven : When a King Mates the Queen**

**24 October 2003**

11:04 pm

It was the smell that roused him first. _A familiar smell but distant--I have not experienced it for a while._ A forked tongue flickered out from under the scant shelter of the warming pillow to taste the air. _It feels oily, rancid, of things unhealthy and dead._ Unremembered but known. _It's a Bad Smell--a smell that usually came with other scents--I remember--wariness and pain, sweat and blood. Hot blood. Only none now, just the Bad Smell._

Horatio had no real memory, but he _remembered_; he _knew_ things.

He knew the seasons, even if he lived inside, snug and warm. They tasted different, made him feel different. Winter made him sleepy and slow, the air dry, cold--oh so cold, even inside. Summer meant basking on stones baking in the late morning; it felt good, fresh food in the sunshine, crackling hot grasses sliding aside for him as his tongue tasted all the promise on the wind. Autumn made him seek warm burrows and deep places, the air crisp and fresh hinting of snow to come, the sneaky feel of layers of cool wet leaves along his scales as he slid between them, hunting an abundance of fat prey all preparing for winter. Spring made his blood burn with thoughts of mating, the air clean and moist, pregnant with the promise of fresh hot meat and a willing slick body to twine with.

He knew the Master and his smells best; oh! so many smells--they changed almost daily. Some green, some sour, some making his tongue tingle when he tasted the air. Mostly he tasted strong and relentless--like one of the snake-kind. Fresh from the Warm Water Place or fresh from Harry, he tasted the best--hot and salty and virile.

He knew the White One, with his smells of ripened sun fruit and sweet things like honey--he tasted old and sage. He knew the New One, Harry, the one who spoke his tongue and liked to talk to him, who smelled of kindness and rain falling on new grass, and, like the Master, tasted powerful.

He knew the Bad One, the one he smelled now--he'd not tasted him often, but he'd tasted so vile and cruel Horatio never really forgot him. He'd always hid from the Bad One, who never knew he was there. Sometimes the Master would come home with his scent reeking all over him, overlaid with the odors of old blood and spent mating. _This one smells stronger of the Bad One than the Master. He's not the Bad One but he is with him--his scent is part of him._

Horatio poked his head out of the cover and looked around. There was someone in the room. A small someone. Horatio couldn't see him well, but could sense his movement, sense his size. He flicked his tongue again. _The Bad Smell is coming from the Small One who also smells like all the other small ones who live here. He is too big to eat, too big to kill. His air tastes evil._ He watched him. He drew his head quickly back under the pillow cover when the Small One came up to the fireplace. _Still. Stay still. He must not see me._

The Small One, wearing a filthy, ancient flour bag, stood by the fireplace, a writhing black velvet bag hanging by a silken cord, looped around his frayed rope belt. He stretched onto his toes and, extending his arms as far as he could reach, plucked the piece of parchment off the mantel, unrolling it. He read it, his lips moving as his eyes slowly scanned the message. With a delighted cackle, he crumpled it into a tight ball, throwing it into the trash can near the table.

Poking his head out a little from his safe place by fire, Horatio saw the ball sail into the garbage pail. _The Bad Smell has the square of yellow. The Master's square of yellow from the top of the Fire Place. It does not belong in the Place Where The Rats Sometimes Hide._ Afraid of being seen, he withdrew back into his shelter when the Small One peered around the room again. Big ears twitching, he sniffed loudly, like the dogs in the farmer's yard when Horatio went to steal eggs. The Small One stopped, looked hard at the far corner, and moved away after new prey. Horatio 'heard' the mouse's movements through the bones of his head as the Small One pursued it.

Horatio breathed a soft hiss of relief. _I must not be seen. I must not want the mouse. I must not be hungry. Still and quiet--I need to be quiet. I must not be found. The small Bad One must not know I am here._

* * *

Maldy heard a sound--soft and furtive. He looked suspiciously around the room, sniffing loudly, hunting for the faint noise caught by his sensitive ears. Could it be the human? Spying a mouse cautiously making its way to a hole in the wall, he grunted in relief even as he stalked it. Maldy was hungry; his Master fed him well, but Maldy deserved a treat and this was for something other than his belly. The mouse, struggling as he caught it, carried with it the small promise of his only release.

He was of the old line, the ones who fought their slavery to the humans. Stupid humans. Weak humans binding once clever elves to them forever in atonement for deeds no one remembered. Binding magic, ancient magic so strong no elf could break it. Not proud elves anymore, but gutless elves, elves so long in their servitude they knew not how to live on their own. Maldy knew, though. He and his family _remembered_. He wanted to shed the numbness, the hated shackles, to stand arrogantly as his ancestors once did, to feel the same life-blood pounding in his veins as they had when they'd showered deadly magic on those _still_ too weak to oppose them, were they only free.

He was angry. He was always angry, always _hungry_. His Master, so much stronger and wiser than the other humans, understood his urges, encouraged his cravings, allowing Maldy to do for him as he pleased. As they both pleased.

For Maldy worshipped Death, a god who hungered for life as much he did. He cradled the mouse gently in his hands, feeling his own existence keenly through the pulse of its paws, the twitch of its whiskers, the shudder of fear through its body. He waited, avidly watching its eyes--it always showed in the eyes, that instant when Death accepted his offering. The mouse blinked. There--the sign. Sighing contentedly, Maldy delivered Death its prize. The panicked throes of the mouse in his mouth calmed him, the sudden stillness when he crushed it with his teeth made him feel, for that one moment, at peace. His mouth twisting in a simple smile of satisfaction, he swallowed it whole, feeling everything around him as intimately as the small sacrifice sliding down his throat. But only for that one, fleeting moment. Without it he was only one more embittered house-elf longing for the next release, the next time he could deliver Death.

Death was even now in the sack at his side. He took the bag into the bedchamber, left it lying on its side on the floor by the door, opened the neck, and stepped back quickly, his job done. He regretfully wished the Master would let him stay and see the sleeping man die, but his orders were explicit: place Esmerelda, leave as soon as you are done, and don't get caught. With a flash he was gone to the kitchens and, before his presence was even registered by the slumbering house-elves, he disappeared down a narrow elf-sized passage at the back of the pantry. Running silently, he reached The Circle, a special portal used only by the house-elves to go to Hogsmeade and which was never guarded. Silly humans, thinking all house-elves were good. Once in Hogsmeade, he Apparated home to his Master, who had not yet returned from his 'errand'. He was not concerned. He would wait and then find the others and let them know. He knew they would be pleased.

* * *

At half-past eleven o'clock, Remus and Severus Floo'd gracelessly into The Jolly Mandrake. Stumbling from the hearth, they stopped mere inches from slamming into a hag nursing a drink alone at a table near the fire. They were wearing illusion spells they'd cast on each other before leaving the castle from Dumbledore's fireplace, the only one directly connected to the outside. Severus righted himself and brushed the ash off him, careful to keep it towards the fire. _'Damn, the old hag smells rancid,'_ he thought, wrinkling his nose, not quite sure if it was her person or her soiled robes that gave off such a stench. She looked over at him, her scathing disinterest plain. While to Remus he looked like himself, to her he looked like a hunched over, down-on-his-luck wizard with long, greasy grey locks, tattered robes, and bronzed skin.

"Be off, knave. Thou art ruining my trade," she hissed at them when they didn't move away fast enough for her.

_'No, I think you are doing that quite well all by yourself,'_ Severus thought even as he stepped back saying, "Sorry. No 'arm done. Lost ma balance there. Come, friend," he said to Remus. "Let's find us a drink." Bowing to her still angry face, they beat a hasty retreat. It was never wise to cross a hag if one could help it.

Making their way casually through the crowded pub to the bar, Severus studied all the faces there, searching for Peter, yet trying to keep a low profile. While he'd rarely come to this part of the Alley, there was always the odd chance someone might know him. After all, they were hoping for the same thing with the rat. If Pettigrew wore the same spell they did, and chances were good he was, they would see him, rather than his persona, for that was the nature of the spell. They didn't spot him yet, but the pub was dark and huge and filled to the brim with the dregs of the Wizarding World, almost all of them disguised in one form or another. No one wanted to be _seen_ here and most were minding their own never-mind.

Slamming some sickles onto the bar, Severus and Remus took their pints, looking for an empty table in the less-than-desirable middle, the only area with a few remaining open spots. While it put them in the light, so to speak, they could see fairly well around the room.

Severus was on his second reconnoiter of the occupants and about to gratefully give it up as a lost cause when a rough voice near them cackled, "Wotcher lookin' at?"

Severus turned to find himself facing a round shouldered old man whose wrinkles were caked with grime the color of things that crawled. A scar bisected one side of his pasty face from his forehead curving down to his chin. To Severus, it was obvious he was a squib for his missing eye had no magic eye to replace it. As he was not really interested in finding out what was nesting in the open socket, he fixed a glare on the good eye and rasped, "Mind your business."

The ragged man, grinning to reveal crooked peg teeth, held up his hands. "Eh! No bother. Ya lookin' fer summat?"

Since he looked to be a regular, Remus decided he might be helpful. "We came fer a friend, but 'e's not 'ere. You seen 'im? Small bloke," he measured up to his eyes, "pink, 'is eyes water hand 'e hain't got much 'air--all tufted like it is--"

"Ya lookin' fer The Rat?" the man asked, interrupting Remus, his hands curling around his almost empty pint.

Severus spoke up. "Could be 'im. Ya see'd 'im?" He palmed a Galleon and laid it on the table next to the man. "Fer the next round."

The man's eyes gleamed with avarice as he called over the barmaid for another pint. "Aye, earlier. He weren't alone, neither. Him and sommun' Floo'd over t'tha Cuckoo's Nest a while back."

Remus was thoughtful. "Cuckoo's Nest? Ne'er 'eard of it."

Severus chuckled. "'Tis over in Bedlam, North Yorkshire way. Come friend, let's catch up with 'im."

"Thanks fer the 'elp," Remus called as they were walking away.

The man nodded, lifting the tankard in their honour. _'My pleasure, I assure you,'_ Lucius thought, placing the pint back on the table untouched. _'Vile stuff,'_ he thought, willing them to be gone. He needed to hurry soon out the back before the Polyjuice Potion wore off.

Near the pub's fireplace, Remus turned to Severus. "Did you smell a rat?" he quipped quietly.

"I did indeed--a big rat--and not necessarily the one we're trailing either," he replied just as softly. He sighed. "But there's no helping it. We either go home or see where this 'lead' takes us."

"You think it a trap?" Remus asked.

Severus pinned him with a long-suffering glance. "I've always thought it was a trap. But to what? And why?"

"We'll never know if we don't go and find out," Remus teased.

"Just don't make me regret your impatience, Wolf." He grabbed a handful of the Floo powder and, throwing it on the fire, said, "The Cuckoo's Nest." Remus was right behind him.

Stepping through the smoky fireplace of the Cuckoo's Nest was easier as the deep, ancient hearth was at least a foot taller than Severus. A quick step to the side was timely as within seconds, Remus tripped out to stand beside him. As they turned to walk over to the bar, they scanned the room as unobtrusively as possible. Remus grabbed Severus' arm and leant in to whisper, "There he is, back left table, in the corner."

Severus turned his back to the spot as if he were warming his hands at the fire. He cast a reflection spell and an image of Pettigrew, magnified as if he were a few feet away instead of dozens, formed in front of his eyes. Older now, his face hung in folds like a bulldog as if he'd recently lost a lot of weight. Not that his portly form gave any indication that he'd done so. He realised, as he studied him, that Remus' description of him to the scabby man in the Jolly Mandrake had been uncannily accurate, only Pettigrew's face was a pale grey rather than anything resembling pink. He was obviously terrified about something, his face dripping with sweat in the otherwise chilly room.

"Hey--neat spell," Remus chuckled, looking over his shoulder. "You'll have to teach it to me when we get back."

_'**If** we get back,'_ Severus thought grimly. He started to tell Remus his thoughts when, before he could stop him, Remus left his side to rapidly approach the table in question. Swearing under his breath, he made his way over to them as quickly as he dared under the circumstances; this place might be rough, but he suspected the barkeep, a former Auror named Murphy (whose iron-handed reputation was well known) would not tolerate any active violence.

Halfway there, Severus saw Lupin grab Peter by the arm. He couldn't hear what he was saying, but judging by the paling of Pettigrew's face and the dark spots suddenly staining his threadbare robes at his neck and groin, it obviously wasn't pleasant. He'd no more formed the thought that the soggy reaction was so typical of the sniveler, when Peter suddenly transformed into his Animagus form, and took off, leaving Remus' hand holding air where once it had held his coat. Peter nimbly dodged his way amongst the legs of the tables and customers to escape outside under the door. It was a tight fit and, for a moment, Snape thought he wouldn't make it. With a shout, all subterfuge thrown to the winds, Remus was right after him, not two steps behind, knocking over stools and shoving tables out of his way as he ran. Remus pushed Snape aside with a growl as he tried to block him. Pulling his wand, he blasted the door out of existence as he charged through into the night.

Stunned for a few precious seconds before he could respond, Severus was so furious his teeth ached. Calling on every deity he knew (and a few he made up on the spot) to cast the wolf into the deepest pits of hell for his impetuosity, he took advantage of the path Remus had cleared for him and pelted out into the cold behind him. It was imperative he catch the werewolf before the fool could do any more harm. He pulled his wand out of his sleeve, still chasing him. The rat, dark against the snow, was weaving in and around the walks and the street, Remus hot on his paws; he couldn't get a fix on either one of them. They were moving too much.

He almost stumbled when he caught a glimpse of Draco. "Remus! NO! Stop! Come back! It's a trap!" he roared with all the volume he could muster, but it was too late. The blind, eager werewolf had only rat-chasing on his mind. Picking up speed, Severus yelled, "Gods damn you!" as he continued to give chase, trying to catch him up. Closing, he aimed for Remus' shoulder only a few feet away, the spell almost cast, when a _"Petrificus Totalus"_ caught him full in the back. He fell, stiff as a board.

_'Fuck! And I accused the wolf of being single-minded? Stupid, stupid, stupid! Now we're well and truly caught. Damn it all to hell!'_ He continued to throw heated invectives at himself as he helplessly watched Draco warily approach him.

"Well, I'll be damned. It worked!" Draco exclaimed, surprise in his eyes.

If Severus could have shaken his head, he would have. But he could move his eyes. This could be useful; perhaps he could make Draco _see_. He concentrated, willing Draco to examine the wrongness of his actions.

Draco looked stunned and the questions in his mind flitted across his face. Then the hard mask replaced the flicker of humanity glimpsed and he toed Severus in the head. "Shut up!" he cried, kicking him again, harder. "Just shut the fuck up." It didn't seem to occur to him that Severus was not even capable of making a sound.

Severus was not impressed with the uncertainty in Draco's eyes and wondered, not for the first time, just whose side he was on and if he could be turned. When Draco's foot connected with his temple the third time, with a fading shower of white hot lights behind his eyes, it was his last thought in the growing darkness.

* * *

11:59 pm

Horatio waited to make sure the small Bad Smell was gone. As he poked his snout out of the cover of the warming pillow, he flicked his tongue rapidly, tasting the air. _The Bad Smell lingers, but he has left._ He cautiously slithered out of the cover into the cold room, the icy stone painful on his belly as he undulated over to the garbage can, intent on getting the piece of parchment Maldy had thrown in there, when he heard _it_.

_[Ssso cold. Thisss One needsss to be warm. One can feelsss the heat. Where isss it? Thisss One mussst findsss it. It isss too cold.]_

He immediately stopped, his long black tongue flicking in and out, partly to find the noise, partly in agitation. He could taste it. _A Snake. There is a Snake in MY territory. I smells a female Snake. This is not the time of mating. She is not here for me. She does not belong here. I must finds the intruder._

_[Ah--Thisss One sssensssesss sssome heat. The heat is higher. One mussst reach it. Oh, ssso far up. Thisss One mussst go to it. It isss too cold.]_

Horatio honed in on the sibilant sound of small scales felt through the stone floor; they rasped loudly to him. Silently he undulated his way to the bedchamber, the only source of warmth left in the apartments other than his warming pillow. The cold was so painful. But an intruder was in his territory. He must protect what was his. It was all he had.

He stopped in the doorway to the bedchamber. It was warmer in here, the fire burning bright. _Harry is asleep. He is very warm. Where is the intruder?_ He flicked his tongue several times. _I can taste her. She is near. A small smell. A small Snake. I must find her._ He set out across the room, raised himself as high as he could reach and still barely got enough purchase to slither up the covers onto the bed. He sped over to Harry and bumped him in the face with his pointy nose. _[Wakesss up, Harry. There isss an intruder. We mussst findsss her. Ssshe isss not sssupposssed to be here. Wakesss up!]_ When Harry didn't rouse, he thumped him, again in the face, with his thick coils and pointed tail. Harry stirred, but did not awaken. _[Harry, wakesss up. There isss an intruder. Helpsss me findsss her. Ssshe isss in our territory, we mussst--AAAAAGGHHHH!]_

He swung his upper body around and saw a little purple snake, banded in lurid green, latched onto him, her long, sharp fangs sunk into the meaty part of his mid-body. She was already pumping her poison into him. He immediately threw his head at her and knocked the ferocious little snake free of him, ripping his flesh in the process. Blazing pain seared up to his head, making him angry. The slender snake, less than a quarter of his length, stood poised to strike again, her mouth open, dripping fangs exposed.

Her posture showing amused contempt, she hissed, _[You sssneaksss like a hatchling.]_ Momentarily confused by his lack of response to this deadly insult, she dipped her head once and asked, _[Who are you, Egglesss One?]_ When he continued to stare at her, motionless, she raised up haughtily, her upper body weaving. _[You are nothing, not even worthy of a name. Get away from Thisss One'sss heat!]_

_[**I** am Horatio, and thisss isss **my** hunting ground. Who are you, Mannerlesss One? **You** are the tressspassser. Leave now.]_ While coiling to strike, he subtly maneuvered himself more fully between her and Harry, then inched his head closer to her.

She glanced at the sleeping human still within easy reach, then back to her opponent. _[Ssstopsss or the human diesss. No clossser.]_ Horatio froze; he knew her threat was not idle. Her poison was potent; Harry would die if she bit him, slowly and painfully. He pulled his head back cautiously and tensed his coils as she hissed, _[Thisss One isss named Esssmerelda. Thisss One isss ssstronger than you. Move assside ssso Thisss One can sssavour the human'sss heat for herssself.]_

_[No. He isss **mine**, not yoursss. Go away before the Massster findsss you.]_

_[The Massster? The Massster is here? Where?]_ She flicked her dainty red tongue several times, testing the air. _[Hisss sssmell isss not here. You ssspeaksss with sssly forksss.]_

Horatio hissed in disdain, _[My Massster, not yoursss, Ssstupid Ssslitherer.]_

She undulated on the duvet, her dead eyes never leaving him as she complained again, _[Ssso cold. Mussst getsss warm.]_

Seeing he was not moving out of her way, she coiled to strike him again. He watched her carefully. Small snakes were very tricky. She feinted; he expected it and did not move. He waited, knowing she would have to bite him again for him to kill her. And she did. Striking out like lightning, she fastened her fangs into his fleshy side. She had aimed higher, wanting to get his tender throat so she could milk her poison into him, but he'd been fast as well, moving out of her way enough that she struck too low and too shallow to do any real damage. Her mouth wasn't wide enough to put much more poison in his system, but was sunk too deep into his skin for her to extricate her fangs any time soon. He took his time and, in the courteous manner of all snakes, said as his head moved purposefully towards her, _[I am sssorry, but you are in my ssspaccce. Thisss isss my nessst. My Massster. You mussst prepare, little one.]_

She writhed in defiance as his head descended and he neatly broke her spine, and her life, with one crush of his strong jaws. In death her fangs loosened and he worked her head away with only a little tear. It hurt. She slid down his throat oh so slowly and easily, the muscles of his body working to slide her, inch by inch, into his gullet. She tasted bitter, but all poisonous snakes did. A meal was a meal, and this one was even more satisfying as it was won in battle.

The little tail had just disappeared and cleared his throat when he started feeling strange--woozy and sleepy. _I'm so cold. Warmth. I need warmth. Something is wrong. I'm cold on the inside, too._ He slid across the covers seeking Harry's warmth. The bites, as he moved, bled little and were on the top of his body, so he left no trail as he painfully dragged himself up nearer to Harry. Each second he moved a little slower, a little weaker, as the poison of the exotic, magical little Esmerelda worked its way fully into his sluggish system.

He hurt. He was so cold. He inched his way under the covers. _Warmth. Oh it's so warm. So wonderfully warm. I'm so sleepy._ He had barely coiled under the piles of blankets near to Harry when his strength failed him and he lay still.

* * *

TBC


	12. Part II : Lessons Learned

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Twelve : Lessons Learned**

**Warnings for : Hard "R" Rating for Language and Extreme Violence. It may not be the worst you've ever read, but it is not for the squeamish.**

**25 October 2003** : Early Morning, Pre-dawn

When the younger man finally faced him to assess his victim's reactions to his dilettantish efforts of the last several minutes, Severus spat on the floor at Draco's feet. "Is that the best you can do, _boy_?" he asked with mocking disdain.

Draco's eyes narrowed in anger, staring at the sweat-soaked face of his once-loved but now-hated teacher. He studied the familiar, insolent tilt to the man's eyebrow, the sneer twisting the thin lips, the stringy hair plastered to the sides of his pale face. Snape's contempt, the harshness of his unrelenting gaze, ignited a slow burn of resentment in Draco's belly. Something was very wrong here. He should be the one scorning Snape. Where was the submissiveness? He wanted Snape to beg. He'd given him three dozen of his best. Surely that should have brought some kind of reaction other than this--arrogance.

Perhaps Snape needed reminding of who was wielding the punishment and who was receiving it. "I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you," he taunted haughtily, "I'm not the one getting the shit whipped out of me."

Breathing hard and trying to collect himself, Severus baited him, in what was probably not one of his wiser moves. "I've had worse, at better hands than this--tickling--you're giving me. I see things haven't changed all that much. You're still a fuck-up, Draco."

As he'd hoped, Draco lost control and, moving behind him again, began to use the small whip in short, frenetic strokes. It was obvious the younger man used whips for play and pleasure, not punishment. Draco had no real mastery of the thing in that regard and was merely welting Severus' back, missing the more tender bits of him, for which the former Death Eater was absurdly grateful. There were some anatomical places (better left unthought) where the 'means' or duration didn't matter; the result would be _pain_. No, it was better to distract Draco and take the hits where he could stand it the best. He supposed that to someone unused to the lash it might be incapacitating, but Severus was no stranger to it, and, while it certainly brought no pleasure, mostly it just stung. His sweat and Draco's inexperience were actually working in his favour as it made the length of the whip slide, doing less injury. It made a lot of noise, but not a lot of damage.

His mind wandered, trying to find a way out of this mess. He couldn't believe they'd been stupid enough to get caught. _'Well, Remus was impetuous enough to get captured and I got caught in the backlash--OW--poor choice of words. What I can't figure out is why. Why would they do this? Why place themselves in a position for resumption of a dead conflict? And were we the intended victims? Did they think Harry would be with us? Were they the ones who sent the Howlers predicting his death? Is this why Albus was insistent that Harry not come? So he could keep him safe at Hogwarts?'_ A new, more disturbing thought crossed his mind. _'And does this mean that Dumbledore knew **this** lovely diversion would happen?'_ He shunted the speculation to the side; it was too depressing to contemplate at the moment.

While one part of him thought about it, the other noted Draco changing tactics behind him, the strokes stronger, but slower. _'Perhaps Draco is acting alone? Out of revenge for my admittedly unpleasant means of extracting information out of him? Or for the perverse pleasure he knew I took in taking his pound of flesh for the torment he put Harry through? No, I smell Lucius here somewhere--the trap was too elaborate for Draco--he's always been a straight line thinker. And given the bad blood between us when we were younger and later serving Voldemort, I have no doubt the rat would gladly sell me off on his own, but only Lucius would be able to gain enough of Peter's questionable loyalty to betray Remus, the last Marauder. Draco has not his father's considerable talents to instill sufficient fear to force Peter so far out of his hole.'_

He grunted as a particularly hard lash caught him on the ribs. The pain level was still tolerable; he'd learned a very long time ago how to separate himself from this and other minor annoyances; when he reached this state, he'd always found his mind and thinking clearer the more he dissociated himself from what his body experienced. After all, when it came to pain, he'd learned from a master; if he could have shrugged he would have done so. Giving up his unproductive, frustrated thinking for the moment, he turned his head slightly towards Remus chained to the stone wall a few yards away for a different kind of distraction. Looking over Remus' spare form in the flickering torchlight, he found it singularly unfair that the too-thin werewolf had been allowed to keep his modesty while he himself hung fully exposed. It was bloody cold and damp in here and there was some grim satisfaction that, at least for this part of it, Remus appeared as uncomfortable as he was.

Remus stared back at him, feeling guilty; he'd been so dumb to chase after Peter that way. Full of the blood-lust, he'd vaguely heard Severus yelling something at him, but he'd so easily ignored it with his quarry so close. One moment he'd almost had Peter, then next he'd awakened here all trussed up like a Yuletide goose, his hands and feet numb as much from the ropes as from the raw stone under his cheek.

And 'here' had not inspired any rush of well-being. His first sight had been of Peter's lumpy bum as he and Draco moved a similarly tied Severus across the room. They'd left the Potions master lying in a heap before coming over to him and, swearing loudly, roughly fastened him to the wall. His backside cold, he hoarded his small gratitude that at least they'd left his boxers and socks on; Severus had not received the same consideration when they'd taken their time 'preparing' him. Shortly after they'd finished, Peter and Draco had argued in low voices, the result being that Peter had left in a huff. Not that Remus missed the rat's company, but there had been something chilling in the calculated glances Draco kept throwing Snape, as he'd rummaged around a table at the back of the room, that had Remus wishing there was someone else, other than him, present to keep an eye on the boy.

Grimacing, he mouthed the words "I'm sorry," over to Snape, whose mouth twisted and sneered at him. He sent Remus an air kiss. Remus smiled wryly at the old Order joke: "Kiss my arse," Severus was telling him.

He couldn't fathom Severus' levity at a time like this. Naked, the man's arms were spread wide slightly above him, wrists tied to the tops of two sturdy steel posts, one on either side of him. His fettered ankles were fastened securely to rings welded in the bottom of each post near the floor. Remus could see the flexible whip crack around Snape's side and noticed the tiny wince as each flat leather strap curled around. Other than an occasional grunt and temerarious snide comment to Draco every now and again, Snape made no sound; Remus admired his control. In fact, Remus had a feeling Severus wasn't really 'there'. While his face was impassive and his eyes stared unseeing at some point by the door, there was an awareness about him Remus had seen many times when Snape ignored his surroundings to think deeply about something. Remus suspected this almost Buddha-like concentration was what had, in the end, made his time as a Death Eater and spy barely tolerable.

Both Remus and Severus had lost count when the iron door flew open and Lindsay Avery sauntered into the room. "Well, Draco, let's see what we have here." He walked around behind Snape where Draco had stopped to catch his breath. The younger man flushed angrily at Avery's next words. "What? You've been here for almost an hour and THIS is all you've accomplished? It's a good thing your father sent me. Here, give me that thing." Taking the flogger from Draco, he walked over to a table behind Severus and placed the short whip back on it. "Every job has the proper tool. This shorter scourge is more appropriate to love play than any serious punishment." He fingered the thick leather, running it through his hands. "See, the straps are too wide. And this one," he picked up a hooked cat-o-nine-tails, "will do a right ripping, but it's too much and your client will lose consciousness too soon and ruin all your fun." He laid the tails down and pointed to a bullwhip. "If you want to inflict the maximum amount of pain with the most amount of damage, you need something like my 'Lady' here."

Draco eyed Avery's well-oiled 'Lady', which Avery had picked up reverently from the table, placing a kiss on the handle. "It's too long for me to wield," Draco whined. "And tell me again why we're here and not sleeping? Surely they'll keep."

"Tush! Nonsense, my boy. It just takes some practice. Let me show you how it's done," he remarked as if they were discussing the weather. As he turned to approach Severus, he stopped and glanced balefully at Draco, his voice and face hardening. "And we're here because your father told us to be and don't you forget it, _boy_. If you'd prefer, I could just show you, first hand, how it's done." With a harsh huff at Draco's widening eyes, Avery continued, "No? I thought not, so shut your mouth, listen, watch, and learn."

Severus felt his heart drop into his toes, his stomach frozen into a block of ice. _'Fuck! I knew it--Lucius IS involved. And Avery. And his 'Lady.' Fucking bastard. I should have killed you long ago.'_ He knew an instant of pure panic and struggled to keep his face blank. _'I will be calm. I will not hyperventilate. I will relax. I will be in pain.'_ Avery had that effect on him and always had after all the hours they'd spent in each other's 'gentle' company when he was younger. Taking as deep a breath as he could, and others given his current position, he dropped all thoughts and memories of his past association with Avery into a place deep within him. Barely aware of the drone of voices behind him, he soon felt the dismay ebb to be replaced with the knowledge that while he might not be able to control his body's response to what was sure to follow, he bloody well wouldn't scream.

When Avery had walked through the door, Remus noticed the pale flicker of fear around Severus' eyes before he'd schooled them to stare blankly ahead. He obviously knew something Remus didn't, and listening to Avery's casual dissertation on the values of different kinds of whips sent a chill down the werewolf's back that had nothing to do with the icy stone behind him. He could see Severus gathering his courage at the first sonic crack of the long bullwhip against the stone floor. Remus' eyes widened, dread filling him, at the puff of dust raised when its weighted tip snapped the floor, leaving a tiny nick in the ancient stone. He raised frightened eyes to Snape and was horrified by the dead resignation in his face. Snape knew what was coming and obviously was no stranger to it.

Avery strolled around Severus several times, noting the spread of flattened, hairline scars. "You're looking well, Severus," he started off, his voice low and gravelly, like to a lover. "I see you've desecrated my handiwork from the last time we met. Too bad--I'd looked forward to continuing my masterpiece. No matter, I'll just have to think up a new design. There's plenty of room left to work with." Laughing low, he stood inches away, almost touching, and with the handle of the whip under his chin, he tipped Severus' head up to look at him, murmuring gently to him, "How quickly we forget the proper stance when one of your betters is teaching you a lesson. You will look at me when I tell you to, won't you, Severus?"

He replaced the whip handle with his hand, the fingers pressing into Snape's chin painfully. When the tears sprang unbidden to his eyes from the bruising pressure, Avery leant in and gave him a long open-mouthed kiss, his tongue laving all around his mouth and pushing past his closed lips. He bit the captive lower lip hard, leaving a small trail of blood that he licked off. "That's much better." A mere breath of air between them, he ran his hand down Severus' cheek several times, moving the hair in his face back behind his ears. He traced his fingers over Severus' shoulders, across his chest, down his side, feeling the prominent ribs, the soft skin begging to be violated. He continued down the hip bone, sliding his hand around to cup and stroke a bare buttock. "Gods, this is going to be so sweet," Avery whispered, backing away.

Avery removed his robes and his shirt, revealing that the years had been kinder to him than he deserved. He handed the discarded clothing to Draco. "Here--set these aside. I don't want to get them bloody." His bulky muscles flexed as he moved the whip around, re-acquainting himself with her heft and length. Snape's eyes went empty as he fought to control his disgust and the hard knot of fear still lodged in his belly. They flew open with the first crack of the whip as he pulled back against the bonds to arch away from the searing pinpoint of agony on his shoulder just inches away from his face.

Concentrating on something other than the pain, he could hear Remus breathing hard across the room. Preparing for the next strike he knew was sure to follow, Severus thought grimly, _'No, Remus has never experienced this. However, having been on both ends, I still say it's better to watch than receive.'_

"You see, Draco, the trick is to 'lead' him, much the way you do an animal when you're hunting it. You have to anticipate how far he will bow away from you so the whip doesn't lose precious contact. I'm a bit rusty--this one left a furrow. You only want to use the tip for tight accuracy. Let's see if I can't get warmed up."

"You always did talk too much," Severus gasped out as the second crack landed lengthwise on the soft side of his neck. It felt like Avery had snapped his head off.

"And you never knew when to shut up," Avery said calmly, facing Severus with Draco slightly behind him watching in rapt fascination. Avery laid another flicker of the whip delicately across his lips.

Instant fire broke out. His lips swelled tight, making breathing difficult, but he could tell Avery was now making his mark as he'd not cut him this time.

Admiring his work, Avery chuckled and said, "Ah, much better than a gag." He walked back to Severus and ran his fingers almost tenderly across the rapidly bruising lips. "Beautiful," he breathed and turned around to join Draco once again. "There Draco, that's how it should be done. Now that I've warmed up, let me show you the art."

He went behind Severus. This was worse; he couldn't see him, couldn't prepare himself for Avery's skill. And he knew it was a deadly skill--one of Avery's best--other than the knives. He knew that if he survived this, they would be next.

Singing a song only Avery could hear, the whip meted out his pleasure.

"See Draco, I laid a lovely pattern before."

> _Full bright blossoms of blood welled up in the spaces left open between the old scars._

"I used to soften him up for our Lord."

> _Each pinpoint contact of the leaded tip of the bullwhip left a raised angry welt--_

"It took me two years to lay the framework--"

> _--which burst open like a ripe pustule under pressure--_

"--but I filled in the pattern of it in one single night."

> _--spewing flying droplets of crimson agony--_

"Do you remember, Severus?"

> _--against the pale soft skin of Severus' back and sides,--_

"You were what?"

> _--leaving open, torn star bursts like bullets through soft flesh._

"Seventeen or so?"

> _Each snap and crack of the whip heralded a new white-hot score of pain--_

"I remember the Master was--"

> _--trailing streamers of red behind his tightly closed eyes--_

"--most displeased with you."

> _--as he struggled to control the screams lodged in his throat._

"He wanted you punished."

> _The precise lacings of Avery's lover across his ribs--_

"He wanted you to beg for mercy."

> _--stole the very air from his lungs. With immense will--_

"Do you remember begging, Severus?"

> _--he stilled the involuntary twisting of his body--_

"It was oh, so beautiful--"

> _--away from the excruciation of each lash as it only--_

"--the loving licks--"

> _--served to lay the tip across spots that were already--_

"--and sweet kisses--"

> _--opened and bleeding. The pain deepened with each stroke._

"--given so freely to you--"

> _Sweat ran with the blood down his back leaving--_

"--by my lady here."

> _--a different torment of his own making. The lash licked around his legs--_

"Or is it you only remember--"

> _--leaving curliques of pain in its wake topped with a point--_

"--what happened after?"

> _--of fire when the tip finally sang around and bit him._

"When our Master--"

> _Up and down his legs the whip ran, tipping the tops of his toes,--_

"--slid in your blood--"

> _--the soft skin of his ankles, the backs of his knees;--_

"--rubbed his body's salt into you--"

> _--his buttocks bled for Avery's lady, the crease laid open._

"--as he fucked you dry."

> _Precise carmine roses were carved in the concave hollows between his ribs,--_

"Your screams were so lovely."

> _--his armpits and sides held the thorns, the hardened leather--_

"Do you remember, Severus?"

> _--pulled tufts of hair out as they retreated._

"I so loved to hear you scream--"

> _Scourged wounds, almost beyond pain--_

"--while I and my beautiful lady--"

> _--dotted across his stomach, his muscles clenching to escape the--_

"--crossed the invisible line--"

> _--inevitable path as Avery laid stripes across--_

"--between pleasure and pain."

> _--his hips, the tender insides of his thighs, his scrotum._

"She caressed your balls--"

> _The battle was momentarily lost and a prolonged cry erupted unbidden--_

"--licked your shaft--"

> _--as the caress of weighted metal creased a welted furrow down his penis,--_

"--until our Master came and--"

> _--and another struck with a kiss at the tip--_

"--ripped you apart."

> _--dripping with the blood of Avery's pleasure._

"Scream for me, Severus!" he cried with a flurry of lightning fast flicks as wanton as an orgasm--

> _A frenzy of fiery strokes kissing his body, the staccato cracks of the whip deafening in the small chamber. He arched against the bonds, his throat tight around his unsurrendered screams--_

Gasping for air, Severus had nowhere to turn to escape the explosions of anguish coursing across his body, the salt of his own blood and sweat running down his back creating a new agony with every beat of his heart.

And then, for some unknown reason, it was over; the whip stilled, dragging on the stone flags. Its wielder, his face ecstatic, breathed heavily as if he'd just come fresh from his lover's bed. Severus drew himself together enough to glare defiantly at his tormentors.

Draco's face was a study in fascinated horror. Severus couldn't decide if he was disturbed, numb, or aroused. It was all the same. He was there, he had watched, and he had done nothing to stop him. He stared straight at him and told him with only his eyes what a coward he thought he was.

Still gasping, stunned at the life still left in his victim, Avery managed to continue his lesson. "See, Draco... it's all in the wrist. You don't need to flail him... to hurt him. Here... you try. I daresay... he's softened up by now."

Draco hesitantly took the whip from him and flicked it in the air, smiling suddenly at the sound it made as the tip burst through the sonic barrier making the distinctive crack no one would ever mistake for anything else. Severus winced, bracing for a blow that never came. Calm now, the movement was not lost on a closely watching Avery. "That's right, test her first, make her sing." Several more pops followed and Avery nodded. "I think you have the hang of her, you'll learn no more without some practice. Come to the front where there's still some open space to work and he can see you." He laughed, holding Snape's gaze. "As a teacher, I'm sure he'll appreciate the acquisition of skill."

Severus closed his eyes. A whip of this power in the hands of an angry neophyte was not something he wished to see. The first tentative throw caught him across the face, the tip biting near his ear, the sonics of its landing almost deafening in its proximity. His head imploded and his ear began to bleed from the inside.

Avery was patience itself. "No, no, you're too close, Draco. It's the tip that causes the damage, not the shaft. Try again."

The second strike, better aimed and controlled, laid a stripe open on his shoulder next to the first one Avery had thrown. Snape grunted.

Avery put a hand on Draco's arm before he could flick the whip again. "What did you say, Severus? You have a comment?"

Snape licked his dry swollen lips and said hoarsely, "Better. His control was better, although it is nowhere near your standard." He chuckled mirthlessly--he would be damned if he let them _know_ how much it hurt.

Avery wheezed on his laughter. "A compliment indeed, from one who should intimately know. Try again, boy."

"He's mocking me!" Furious, Draco stalked right up to Snape, his face mere inches away. "Aren't you?"

His voice barely above a whisper, each breath laboured, he said for Draco's ears alone, "No, not really. But I will tell you this--you will never equal Avery if that is your aim. You're not vile nor venomous enough and you're too smart. Take a good look, Draco--Voldemort's enforcer. If you want to see true evil, look hard at Avery, for he is its embodiment. You don't have it in you to sink to his level of depravity. No one does--not even your father."

Draco backed away from him several feet, his face dismayed. It lasted but an instant before the shutters slammed down over the faint humanity in his eyes. He viciously pulled the whip behind him and let it go with deadly intent in an underhanded twist. Severus stared implacably into his eyes as the tip sang its way to him, defying him to break him. He felt calmer now--the pain receding into a controllable ball. The little exchange had bought him the time to rediscover that place within him where he could hide until it was safe to come out. Then he could hurt at his leisure.

None of them were prepared for the explosion of light that ripped through the chamber when the lash hit Severus dead center in his chest. The Talisman in his skin blazed, sending a trail of bright power up the shaft of the whip; Draco couldn't drop the handle in time and it scorched him. The whip was now an insignificant pile of smouldering ashes on the floor, the burned residue thick on Draco's hands where they'd gripped the leather and wood stock just moments before.

Severus had but a moment's glimpse of Avery's stunned, wrathful face, Draco's pain, and Remus' tired grin before his vision narrowed and he sagged mercifully against the bonds, his last thought, _Why?_

* * *

Harry sat bolt upright in the bed, sweat-soaked, the shadowed dream in which he'd tossed ending in an explosion of white light and even brighter pain. His wits scattered, heart pounding, he focused on the very real discomfort centering on his chest. He absently rubbed the place where their Talisman was burnt into his skin. It was hot to the touch and tender. This was new, and he experienced a brief moment of panic that something was wrong with Severus. However, after a few moments of fruitless searching through their bond and the rapid cessation of the disturbing sensations in his body, his common sense kicked in and told him he was being fanciful, that he'd still been in that nether place where dreams still feel real before one is fully awake. He shook his head at his own folly--it wouldn't be the first time _that_ had happened--there had been times when he'd either greatly amused or alarmed Severus with the early morning remnants of his dreams.

Still groggy, he looked around the room noting the empty place beside him and the darkness outside the window. "Severus must be on one of his walks," he muttered around a huge yawn. While late, it was not unusual for Severus to walk until dawn and he felt little concern on that count, knowing his lover had plenty of time to sleep-in this morning. He briefly toyed with the idea of joining him, but his unusually heavy lids and leaden body told a different tale of what he needed to do right now. He pulled Severus' pillow back over to him; the lingering scent of his lover filling his senses lulled him back to sleep.

He never noticed Horatio under the covers.

* * *

TBC


	13. Part II : The Big Uneasy

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Thirteen : The Big Uneasy**

**25 October 2003** (continued)

7:30 am

Groggy did not even begin to describe the confused state of mind Harry experienced when he first cracked his eyes open to the sunlight streaming into the bedchamber. Befuddled, addled, cloudy, foggy--they were all the same when the eyes worked fine and the brain refused to function at the same speed. He lay there, vision aimlessly tracking across the canopy above. His mind finally caught up to the fact that he was alive, breathing, and evidently in one piece, judging that he could now enumerate his body parts; they were no longer disconnected from his senses.

Actual thought occurred a few minutes later when he realised a normal morning ritual was sorely missing and, with a start, he looked to the side and saw the empty side of the bed next to him. Well, almost. There was a rather large lump under the covers near where his lover should have been. But no Severus. Dealing with his mysteries one at a time, he decided to investigate the lump first since it was closer. He gingerly peeled back the covers and was a bit surprised to see Horatio coiled up asleep in the bed with him. At least he thought he was asleep. It was hard to tell when the snake's eyes were always open.

But he was motionless. _'Odd that. Even asleep, Horatio is rarely still.'_ He hesitantly put out a hand and touched the black and white coils, expecting a startled hiss of welcome. When he got no response, he ran his finger over the pointed head saying, _[Horatio? Wakesss up, Horatio. Are you sssleeping?]_ Horatio was very warm to the touch, his skin pliable, but he didn't move or speak. Harry shivered in the cold of the room. _'Perhaps the spell failed on the warming pillow and he got too cold last night? Went into hibernation? It is an awfully long hike from the sitting room to here if you're freezing. I don't think he's dead. That would be too terrible to contemplate today of all days.'_

Today? Why today?

"Damn, it's my wedding day!" Energised, Harry jumped out of the bed. The snake still hadn't moved, but given that he was warm and pliable and of good colour, Harry didn't worry too much about him. Thinking he'd been comfortable under them before, he carefully placed the covers back on the snake and placed a warming spell over the spot so he wouldn't get cold, never noticing the injuries hidden within his coils. _[Pleasssant dreamsss, Horatio. I will ssseesss you when you wakesss.]_

The snake now at the back of his mind, he put on his slippers and dressing gown against the heavy chill, admiring the dawning sunshine outside. A short spell later and the fire in the grate was burning merrily, a pleasant complement to his mood. He grinned, thinking of last night and the not-so-subtle revenge the Potions master had exacted on the Healer for daring to 'replace' his desk. Given that the last thing he remembered was snuggling close to his lover afterwards in a haze of satiation, he could only assume he'd slept the night through. The more he thought on it, the more convinced he was that Severus had probably got out of bed after he was asleep to go wandering the castle. Since this answered a dim memory, whether of last night or of any other numerous nights before, he knew not, but he felt some relief that part of the mystery was solved.

However, it was only half of it. While Harry knew he was a heavy sleeper (especially after such a fitting 'punishment' Severus had seen fit to mete out) and that he normally would not awaken should Severus leave on one of his night-time jaunts, the man always returned no later than dawn, and he almost always woke him up, usually very early so they would have time to 'play' before rising to go about their respective schedules. And now that he thought about it, he suspected Severus had not been back to sleep at all. Harry couldn't see him tolerating Horatio's presence in their bed, no matter how much he liked the snake. That Severus, on this day of all days, had deviated so far from their normal routine was a bit of a shock, and it worried him a bit.

Not that he was, by any means, panicked--he'd had no foreshadowing of disaster, no undisturbed sleep, and oh! the day was so fine. He rummaged through the wardrobe getting his clothes for the day as the flames started to thaw the room nicely. A niggle of unease teased the back of his mind when he noticed Severus' heavy cloak was gone, but it had been unseasonably cold last night. Something else seemed to be missing, but he couldn't quite figure out what at the moment. He shook his head ruefully; this was not the time to let his spooked imagination get the best of him. Pulling out his clothes, he laid them neatly on the bed, careful not to place any on Horatio and went to the loo to finally relieve himself. Afterwards, a quick trip to the bath confirmed Severus' absence. He was starting to get annoyed.

He wandered into the sitting room and lit the fire there as well; Severus wasn't here either, nor could he see him in his study. Curious, he bent down and put his hand on Horatio's warming pillow and was surprised to feel it still warm and snug. Looking around the room and then spotting the mouse hole and droppings on the far side, he mused out loud, "Silly snake, went after a late-night snack and got too far from your warm bed, did you? Well, the bedchamber IS closer than the pillow from there. Must have been freezing in here. Poor thing, you must have run out of energy about the time you crawled under the covers. You know, Severus is right about you--you are a greedy gut."

Shaking his head about the whole strange situation and dismissing it, he looked at the mantel. It was empty. "Gods bless it, Sev! When are you going to remember to leave a note when you go out like this?" He pulled in his sense of their handfasting and tried to find his truant partner. They'd had very limited success doing this, but he was irate enough and concerned enough now that it just might work. He hunted a few minutes but couldn't sense him. Assuming another normal failure to communicate, he clicked his tongue in annoyance and went into the bathroom--he would ask Dobby later if Severus was in his lab.

In the shower, he began to relax again and started thinking about the ceremony to be held later this evening. He wasn't sure he could stay in his skin for that length of time. He was going over the things he had to do today when a sudden thought started him laughing. "All right, Harry. Admit it--you're an idiot. Of _course_ Severus wouldn't be here. Poppy threatened him with gods know what if we saw each other the day of the wedding. _That's_ why he left last night." He sighed. "I guess that's why he didn't leave a note, either; he assumed I would remember--silly man--he should know better by now."

Feeling much better, Harry rinsed off and stepped out of the shower. As he towelled himself dry, he wondered for the hundredth time what Severus had written for his Epithalamium. He remembered the many nights Severus had sequestered himself in his study, the quill flying, parchment balls all around his desk on the floor. Cally'd had a grand time batting his wasted efforts around the room. His own had not fared much better and they'd had a few days where they'd either growl at each other all evening or have some of the best raw and needy sex they'd ever experienced--fast and hard to take the edge off. He shrugged, supposing it was better than trying to agree on a common work; they just thought too differently. Although, he had to admit, the co-written Assimilation Vows had been a breeze--he'd just nodded his head at most of what Severus had written; _he_ was the Latin scholar after all. Then he'd found 'his room' and, with Cerise's and Hermione's help, it had gone much better until night before last, he'd finally finished it.

_'Well, it's done now. The guests are invited, the Room of Requirement ready, refreshments are probably being made right now, and we got the type of nuptials we wanted--plain and simple. Well, almost simple. The Rite of the Ceremony itself is too long and complicated to merit that term.'_ It had taken him a long time to memorise the words he'd written and found himself tweaking them every time he practiced them, usually in the shower or bath--if he was alone, which wasn't often.

He wasn't all that nervous either, now that he knew where Severus was--or wasn't. No, he was more concerned about the reception they'd let Dumbledore plan without them. Severus had not wanted to become involved in the Headmaster's plans. For himself, he would have volunteered to help, if only to keep an eye on what the old bugger could get up to, but after some thought he had done as Severus wished. Now he wasn't at all sure that had been one of their better ideas.

Fastening the last clasp on his robes, he called Dobby and asked him for a bit of breakfast before they left to go to Diagon Alley to pick up the last thing left undone in the preparations--the gifts for the participants in the ceremony itself. Shortly after the handfasting, he and Severus had adopted the image on the gold glyph they each bore as their personal seal. After much debate with "The Girls", they'd decided to use the seal on the gifts: a folded frame with a Wizarding photo of them both, one the guests could open and display or (as Severus caustically pointed out) could throw in a drawer and forget. Harry had dryly retorted that if Severus was so offended by it, he could always show them his better robe-lifting side, although he wasn't sure the world was ready for another 'Moony'. He'd rather liked the retribution _that_ remark had earned him.

Mr. Langley, the goldsmith, had made the small filigree seals for them from a mould he had cast for his records, Colin had taken their picture, and Mrs. Pendergast had fashioned the frames out of purplewood and assembled them, the seal embedded on the inside blank face next to the photograph. He'd received an Owl yesterday that they were ready. He'd told Poppy he would take care of it--he would need something useful to occupy himself in any event and this got him out of the castle for a while. _'Oh, and I need to remember the 'party favours' for the reception tomorrow night, whatever those are, that Poppy asked us to pick up while we're out.'_

Dobby brought his breakfast with little fuss, and Harry ate quickly while the house-elf patiently waited for him to finish, sitting quietly in the other chair. They had come to an understanding over the years and Dobby often went with Harry when he was working. He was now more Harry's house-elf than Hogwarts', and while Harry paid his entire salary, he also knew he could never buy the loyalty and unswerving devotion the house-elf still showed him for his freedom. He'd taught Dobby many things, the first being to stop calling him "Harry Potter", the second recognising when Harry needed or wanted silence.

Dobby was also aware of Dumbledore's condition. "Has Harry and Professor Snape finished the new potion for the headmaster, sir?" he asked when Harry was mopping up the eggs with his toast.

"Yes, Dobby. We finished it day before yesterday. You'll need to give the bottle and the box of pills to Madam Pomfrey on Monday. They are in the usual place," Harry replied, wiping his mouth with the napkin.

"Dobby will be honoured to give them to Madam Pomfrey, sir." Finished with the meal, Harry went to get his outer cloak while Dobby whisked the plate away.

"Ready, Dobby?" he asked, looking down at the house-elf with affection.

"Dobby is ready, sir. Where does Harry wish to go first?" Dobby asked as they walked out the door.

"Diagon Alley, I'm thinking," he replied, closing the door behind them.

* * *

8:15 am

Severus' first sight was Remus' still, crumpled body on the flagged floor, lying naked in his blood and other fluids. _'He's entirely too thin,'_ was Severus' first irrelevant thought followed by his second, more practical, _'I hope he doesn't drown in it.'_ He tried to assess the damage with his eyes. Bruised and battered, Remus had been beaten badly, but, by the looks of it, he would eventually be all right. _'He should be coming around soon.'_ He glanced around the square plain room; the windows set high in the stone walls gave just enough light to illuminate the area where there were stationed.

Then he forgot all about it as the previously deferred pain squeezed from behind his eyeballs and exploded through his whole body. Only by clamping his jaw so tight it made a new ache of its own, was he able to hold in the involuntary scream threatening to violently emerge unchecked. A heavy grunt forced past his lips measured his initial success.

Eventually he controlled it, pulled it back inside him bit by bit; he'd take his victories one at a time. Sternly curbing the impulse to mewl like an infant when he finally got it to tolerable levels, he made himself assess his situation--constant vigilance as Moody was wont to say. He first noticed he was still tethered, standing, between the two posts. He was freezing, the stone floor beneath his numb feet icy; he could feel it all the way up his legs as cramps seized his lower body trying to keep him warm. _'The first signs of hypothermia--lovely.'_ His arms, if they were down, would be leaden weights, the skin and muscle cold as his heart laboured to get life-warming blood to the extremities stretched by his head.

_'Well, at least that leaves more blood for my brain. Not that I know what to do with it at the moment.'_ He listened hard. He could hear Remus' laboured breathing, could see it puff irregularly out of his open mouth with each exhalation. _'Must have broken some ribs.'_ He could hear his own breathing, harsh in the otherwise-silent, deserted dungeon chamber, the cold burning his lungs with each breath, his own plume of frost thin as his body strove to warm the frigid air. _'I've been here before--this is one of the hidden chambers beneath Malfoy Manor.'_

He waited and mused that unoccupied time in situations like these was usually intentional--a time for the victim to anticipate the next punishment, to truly feel the hopelessness and solitude, to wear the future like a hair shirt. He knew he was supposed to be contemplating what Avery was going to do next, building the fear to the point that he would be pudding when his tormentor returned. Severus snorted. Since when did he do anything _they_ expected him to do? So instead, he thought of his last memories of Harry before he'd left--the tousled hair on clean white cases, the pillow his nose was buried in, the sleepy lust in his brilliant eyes, the sleep warmth of his body. It helped make the pain go away, helped him focus on something other than the growing discomfort from his position, threatening to release the other pain he knew he could not hold back forever. He wanted, no, needed, to hold that pain at bay until a time he could curl into a ball and writhe to release at least bits of it and howl his growing agony in a place where no one would comment or laugh if he did so.

The door opened. Avery closed it behind him before going over to Remus, prodding him with his boot. Remus didn't respond to the swift kick in the ribs that followed, which would have been excruciating had he been awake. Without looking at Severus, he said, "Your friend was rather boring, you know--only lasted an hour or so before he lost consciousness--even an _Enervate_ spell didn't work. Perhaps it's the werewolf in him." He turned back to Severus and walked to the side as he said with great humour, "Now you, my friend, are another story altogether."

He was now behind Severus, who could hear him fussing with things that clinked at the back table as he called out, "Delicious daggers, by the by--good heft, nice grips, supreme balance, not that I wouldn't expect anything less out of a precise person such as yourself. Good poison on them, too--it's such a shame I'm not allowed to kill you. I'd use these on you instead of my tired old blades. It would be interesting to see how much you twitched before the end."

He set a stool on the floor a few feet away so they could see each other clearly. "I'd ask you to sit, but--" he started laughing as he hooked a strop to his belt and laid two worn, but excellent knives on the floor next to him. He started running the flat edge of the third on the thick leather at an angle, honing the already razor-sharp edges. He asked conversationally, as if they were in the parlour, "So how are you, Snape? Feeling better, I hope? Ready to go at it again?"

"I've been better, 'Linny'," Severus stated in the same tone of voice, his voice hoarse and raw. "I seem to have caught some cold, though."

The wheezing chuckle was loud in the room. "You always were a bastard, 'Sevvie'. But, you know what? I always liked you for it. Give no quarter, take no quarter. It was always a pleasure to see how far I could push you, how much I had to make you bleed to make you scream." He started on the second knife. "You never failed me, either. Your skill with those daggers you learned from my hands. Both before and after I used them on you. Stubborn prick. I almost hated to see you fall. So full of dark promise. I'll wager Voldemort fucked you up bad." He tested the edge. Satisfied he started on the third knife.

"No, Lucius did that all by himself." Severus was having a hard time breathing with his numb hands over his head.

Avery looked thoughtful a moment. "Yeah, I can see that--but if he didn't do it then, he's determined to do it now." He shook his head. "Poor bastard--I almost feel sorry for you. You'll wish I'd used those pretty little daggers of yours on you before _this_ day is through."

Severus was silent for a while, the sound of metal on leather the only words between them. "You know, I never thanked you, Avery."

The knife stopped on the strop. He tested the edge on his thumb. It was ready. He stood in front of Severus. "Thank me? For what?"

Severus drew in as much as air as he could. "For making me--strong--for testing--my resolve--for making me--so--bloody angry--I found--it in me--to focus--years of my--life on your--destruction--Ahhh--gods damn you!"

Avery had made the first small cut while he'd been speaking. A short stroke made in the fleshy part of Severus' chest right to the side of the Talisman scar, which he seemed unable to see. He paused and looked at Severus hard and then started chuckling. "Pretty useless if you ask me," he observed, "I'm still alive."

Severus chuckled wickedly. "My life is still young."

"Well, yes, there is that, but it seems like a lot of words to me, _Professor_, seeing you're _there_," he gestured to Severus' bonds, "and I'm _here_." He wheezed loudly as he continued in the same mocking voice, "Getting a little harder to breathe there, my friend?" He poised the knife for the next cut. "Let's see if I can't help you hold it. I have a little surprise planned for you--can't have anyone we know healing this, now can we?"

He started the next cut slightly above the previous one, saying, "Let there be pain--_Chalah_." Severus strained against the bonds recognising the ancient Sumerian word and what Avery was about to do. He fought the momentary panic until he remembered he probably wouldn't survive this in any event, so no lasting harm could be done.

Severus knew Avery was waiting for the full import to sink in. "Yes, my friend, I'm going to _MARK_ you. A little present from a mutual acquaintance of ours. Don't worry, I'll make sure they're pretty. I AM an artist, you know." He cackled as he prepared his knives on the stool, which he had Transfigured into a small table. He removed his shirt and Transfigured it into a small brazier, which he set by the knives; a quick spell set it alight, and the white hot coals within warmed and distorted the air around it.

Avery sighed in satisfaction. "While it was nice chatting with you, Professor, play-time's over; it's time to do some serious work," he muttered, pulling the first knife off of the table.

Severus gasped against the pain of the knife slicing through the top of the skin. Avery knew better than to cut muscle and sinew. If he did, his victims couldn't twitch and move any more and that would 'take all the fun out of it'.

"Feel the fear--_Charadah_." Cut after short cut ran agony through him.

"Know only hate--_Satam_." It felt like Avery was cutting in almost the same place each time, but Severus knew he was making a small picture in his skin.

"Mark the horror--_Zalaphah_." He'd seen this done to several Death Eaters as punishment--usually as a means to track them, once the ancient words were set.

Occasionally, Severus almost blacked out when Avery used a red-hot edge to seal a slice he needed to work on further but was never allowed complete unconsciousness as Avery would revive him each time.

Time stood still for Severus.

"Live in despair--_Ya'ash_." Avery concentrated.

"Love is punishment--_Anash_." One cut after another.

"Cry in endless sadness--_Roa_." The coals hissed.

"See only darkness--_Chashekah_." His brow furrowed as he slid the knives precisely in his canvas.

"Live in grief--_Morah_." The wand setting the Dark Magic burned almost as much as the knives.

"Scream in anguish--_Raphah_." He connected lines with short shallow cuts.

"Bring only destruction--_Chebel_." Almost through the skin, but not quite all the way through.

"Taste only bitterness--_Morrah_." A fall of blood followed the knives in their wake.

"Dream of loss--_Chata'_." Avery switched knives almost as often as he switched the words making his cunning spell.

"Wake in weariness--_Mattala'ah_."

After a small eternity, he stood back, admiring his handiwork, a satisfied smile on his lips. "There now, first half done. You look a little done in there, Severus. Can't have you falling asleep on me, now can I? _Enervate_!"

He went to the back of the room. Hearing water sloshing and a loud slurping sound, Severus was reminded he'd had no water since his capture and was suddenly filled with a deep desperate thirst made worse when Avery returned to stand in front of him, water dripping from his face and leering mouth. "Oh, I forgot to bring you some water, Severus! Well, no time for it now--no rest for the weary and all that rot--I must get back to work."

Severus glared at him and bit back the words he was about to utter, deciding he needed to conserve what little energy he had--the spell was beginning to take its toll and it was all he could do not to fall prey to the words Avery had uttered with each cut.

He was almost finished with the drawing on the other side of Severus' chest when Maldy opened the door, a chill draft following him into the room. A shadow in the hallway beyond the door was very still; no one noticed his presence, nor that the door had been left open.

"The Master told Maldy to come down here to tell Avery the package was delivered successfully."

"Oh? That's nice," he said abstractedly, distracted by the last cut made with a spoken, "Sow the seeds of discontent--_Mar_." He straightened and wiped the knife on his trousers as he'd done after each of the cuts; the leg was as bloody as his hands. "Now, what was that? Successful, you say?" As he turned towards him, the manic gleam in his feral eyes sent a shiver of apprehension through Severus, his skin stippling as much from the frigid air as the tone of Avery's voice.

"Cold, my boy? Not as cold as _your_ boy." He waited for his words to sink in. When he saw the dawning comprehension on Severus' face, he started laughing cruelly. "Dead, Severus. Deceased. Cold. Strolling through Elysium. Gone. Harry Potter is dead."

Severus struggled against the bonds holding him fast, twisting the fetters terribly into his flesh in his desperate attempt to escape the malignant words coming out of Avery's fiendish mouth. He screamed hoarsely at him, "No, NO! Harry is safe in Hogwarts. I left him there myself. Safe and warm." Severus shook with the effort to keep the panic at bay.

Avery pushed his hateful face near and hissed, spittle flying into his captive's face, "Safe, Severus? I think not. Warm? He's cold dead. Betrayed by a house-elf. _Our_ house-elf. The one area Dumbledore never guards--the outside passage for the house-elves. Harry is dead, long live Severus!" His howls of laughter filled the chamber as he stepped back.

Panting with the effort and his deep dismay, he thought, _'Dumbledore **promised** to keep him safe. Albus has **never** broken a promise to **me**--he promised to keep Harry safe.'_ He repeated the mantra in his head--it was almost enough to cover Avery's wild cackle and scorching chant over and over: "Harry is dead; your precious boy is gone." He looked deep within him and could find nothing to tell him Harry was really gone. The handfasting bond was still there. He could feel it. Surely he wouldn't feel it if Harry was dead, would he? Wouldn't he have felt the severing? He closed his eyes against the new pain, one from which he couldn't hide.

It was what the shadow was waiting for. He slid into the room silently, and positioned himself right behind Severus, out of his sight. A pale hand slid from the back to hold a small vial in front of his nose. The thumb popped the seal and a thin black vapour wafted out of it, immediately inhaled by Severus. The shadow waited. A thin sheen of sweat formed on Severus' forehead; he was primed.

A new, hissing whisper insinuated itself through his head, overriding his thoughts. "You're too far away, Severus; you'll never know him again. The bond will always be in you, incomplete. You'll always feel him, even when he's not there. Always in your head, but never to touch again. You can't hear him this far. He died without you. Died with your face in his mind as the last light faded. He died with your name unspoken on his lips, Severus. And you never knew, you never will know. Always in your mind, but never in your arms. Gone away, Severus..." The litany continued unbroken.

A type of delirium slowly seeped through him. He sagged against the bonds, the thoughts of hope in his head walking beside those whispering despair in his ear; the soft, sibilant sounds became a part of him--would take over for as long as he himself did not believe in his own worth, would crowd out the hope until only the despair remained. Lucius' soft voice trailed off watching the gradual transition from sanity into madness. How long it would last was anyone's guess, but it was beautiful to watch, nonetheless.

Severus sank deeper into his mind and his thoughts spiralled in an endless tunnel of darkening shadows. _'Always in my head but never to touch again. Died with my face in his mind as the last light faded. Always on my mind, but never in my arms. I'm too far away--I'll never know him again. I'll always feel him, even when he's not there...'_

* * *

8:22 am

_It is too hot. And too dark for the day. It is heavy. Heavy on me. Must gets out._ The lump in the middle of Harry's bed started to move, at first with little heaves and pushes until it flattened into a longer line. Within seconds, Horatio's pointed head urgently poked out from under the covers, his tongue flicking, testing the air. The room was empty, but he could hear voices from the other room. Tasting again, it was Harry and the Small Noisy One named Dobby. _They are too far away to hear me. I must go to them._ He wiggled his way out from under the heavy covers and lay still, recovering, in the edge of a sun-spot dappling the bed.

He was hot. Too hot, the extra heat making him almost as sluggish had he been too cold. He stretched his full length across the duvet allowing some of the heat to dissipate from his skin. As he cooled, he remembered. _The little snake had a potent juices--mades me sleepy. The Small One with the Bad Smell is long gone. Harry is all right. I am not hungry; the little snake was filling. I needs to be doing something. What do I needs to be doing?_ He coiled, his temperature still too high, but he felt an urgency to move off the bed. He'd slid no more than a few inches when he felt the vibration of the outside door to the rooms closing. In the ensuing silence, he flicked his tongue. While their smell lingered, Harry and the Small Noisy One were gone.

Slithering to the edge, he looked down at the floor trying to find a place to slide down, but there was nothing in sight. The table nearby was of the same height, but slick compared to the nubbly texture of the cover he lay on, and there was nothing for him to wrap his tail around to hold onto. He tipped his head over the edge and slid tight down the side of the bed, hoping to get enough length to be able to touch the floor. He'd almost made it when his leverage failed him and with a solid thud, the back end of him hit the carpet next to the bed.

_Ow! I hates that when that happens. Silly people with their high things--they should keep things low and easy._ He snaked his way into the sitting room; the sight of the rubbish pail reminded him of the thing he needed to do. _Needs to get the Yellow Square. Harry needs the Yellow Square the Master left for him. But Harry is not here._ He slid over to the can and raising to his highest free height; his eyes just barely cleared the top. The sides flared out from the bottom so he couldn't climb it. He pushed the top with his nose; it wouldn't budge. He gave the equivalent of a snake shrug. _It is too high. Must go in from the top._

This was easy; he had a lot of practice getting from the floor, to the chair, across the empty space to the table top. He looked over the edge of the side table on which he was coiled; he was staring right at the crumpled wad of the Yellow Square the Small Bad One had thrown from the Fire Place into The Place Where the Rats Sometimes Hide. It wasn't even too far away.

Wrapping his tail around the leg of the table, he cautiously slid out into the free air, his body extended from the end. Carefully, oh so carefully, he lowered his body down into the can. He had a free edge of the parchment in his mouth when he felt his tail unwrapped from the leg and flipped up. Like a skater across ice, his whole length slid across the waxed wood surface and, before he knew it, he was in the trash can, nose first, his tail waving in the air above him.

"Bad Horatio! Winky knows Horatio knows better than to go in the garbage." The house-elf stood over the pail shaking her finger at the helpless snake. "Teach Horatio a lesson, Winky will! Bad Horatio! Stay out of the garbage!"

_[Bad Small One, Bad Winky tipping me into the can when I am only trying to helpsss the Massster. I do NOT go in the garbage unlesss there isss food there. The ratsss essspecially like to hide in it.]_

"Horatio should not hiss at Winky. Winky is going to leave Horatio there if Horatio doesn't stop hissing."

If a snake could roll its eyes, Horatio would have done so. _Stupid Winky. Now whats? I cannot go backwards. I cannot slide forwards. I'm **stuck**._ He could hear her move off and make the bed while he struggled to right himself in the can. It was slow going, but eventually, about the time he heard her pop out of the chambers, he managed to upend himself by flipping and coiling at the same time. It meant he had made himself into a loose knot in the middle, but there was no helping it.

He'd never let go of the parchment. His jaws locked about it, he raised himself, but since he was sitting on top of a squashed pile of paper inside, he was much higher. Within seconds after his head's foray over the top, the whole can tipped over, spilling papers and a very upset snake out onto the hearth rug. The first thing he did was thread through his own coils to get rid of the knot.

_I have to find Harry and give him the Yellow Square. Where would he be?_ Horatio had no idea, but decided, _I must go see the White One. I know how to get to his space with all the mice. He will know how to find Harry._ With purpose, he left the room.

* * *

TBC


	14. Part II : Alas! Poor Horatio

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Fourteen : Alas! Poor Horatio--**  
  
**25 October 2003** (continued)

9:40 am

Some time later, Horatio finally arrived at the bottom of the stairway to Dumbledore's office, his progress through the cold castle slowing as he spent some moments lingering in sunny spots trying to stay warm and active, others moving in the shadows to avoid getting trampled on by the throngs of people in the hallways. It hadn't seemed that far the day he'd travelled with Snape (and so many stairs), but he'd forgot that Severus had carried him most of the way once they'd left the safety of the dungeons. Now he had to figure out how to get up into the White One's office.

_What was it the Master said? Oh yes, I remember!_ He raised his head off the floor and hissed, _[Coconutsss!]_ While it was not quite the current password, the gargoyle nonetheless turned in place and the stair started moving up. Horatio hurried and slithered to one of the treads and rode the stair to the top. He humped up the last two stairs to coil on the landing.

He waited. Nothing happened. He slapped his tail on the door--that often worked at home. Still nothing happened. He was starting to get cold, the energy from the last warm, sunny area he'd encountered, nearly half an hour before, fading. Just when he was about to give up, he spotted the small rat hole in the wall near the floor. _Very tight, but I should be able to make it._

He pushed the piece of parchment into the hole with his head and when he felt it pop through the other side, he followed it with his body. He was right, it was tight, but he was just making it through--until he got halfway. The bunching of his muscle at that point in order to push him through the hole was apparently bigger than the hole itself. Turning his head back to look at the opening from this side of the wall, he realised it _was_ smaller than out in the hallway; he was stuck.

_**Now** what does I do?_ he thought, half-in, half-out of the office. _I can't go backwards, I can't go forwards. I needs someone to helps._ He looked around and spied a very ugly, scabby-looking red bird on a perch watching him with amusement.

_[[You DO have a problem, don't you?]]_ the bird chortled from across the room. Fawkes tipped his head in puzzlement. _[[Aren't you the snake who ate all of Dumbledore's mice?]]_

Raising his head off the floor, Horatio asked, _[Are you the Big Red Bird the White One had in here before?]_ Fawkes made a sweeping bow, his molting wings wide. As several feathers dropped to the floor, Horatio hissed, _[What happened to you? You looksss awful. Did a cat getsss you?]_

_[[Insulting a phoenix is not the way to get unstuck. I am close to my time of rebirth. I always look bad then.]]_

_[I meant no insssult. I am being honessst. You look worssse than the lassst time I sssaw you. You were pretty then--for a bird. And yesss, I atesss all the White One'sss mousssesss. He and my Massster asssked me to. You can helpsss me?]_

Fixing his curious regard on Horatio, Fawkes considered the problem. _[[I'm not sure, but I can try to pull you out--I am very strong.]]_

Horatio eyed the bird and his long talons with some scepticism and concern. _[How wouldsss you do that? Your clawsss could hurt me even worssse than ssscraping me through the hole. I already have enough bitesss asss it isss.]_

Fawkes looked him over and could see the raw tears in his length near the wall. _[[How did you get those?]]_

Ignoring for the moment Fawkes' distracting question, Horatio delivered the message he'd come to give. _[The Sssmall One with the Bad Sssmell came into our ssspace lassst night and threw thisss Sssquare of Yellow away before Harry could ssseesss it. It isss important he getsss it.]_

_[[Small One? What's that and what does the note say? And did he bite you?]]_

_[You babble like a hatchling. I do not know what the Yellow Sssquare sssaysss--it doesss not ssspeak. The Massstersss sssometimesss leavesss thessse Sssquaresss of Yellow for each other and they yellsss at each other when they forgetsss to leavesss them. The Sssmall One ssseemed to think it important becaussse he threw it into the Place Where the Ratsss Sssometimesss Hide--he wasss like Winky'sss and Dobby'sss kind. Then he left a little sssnake perssson with lotsss of juisssesss. Ssshe wasss trying to get to Harry becaussse he wasss warm. I wasss unhappy with her, ssshe wasss very rude and I killed her and ate her but not before ssshe bitesss me twissse.]_

_[[A house-elf? Little snake? Lots of juices?]]_ Fawkes tilted his head sideways staring at Horatio with shining eyes. _[[You mean she was poisonous?]]_ When Horatio bobbed his head and hissed, Fawkes commented, _[[She must not have been very poisonous--you're still alive.]]_

_[Oh, her juisssesss were very potent--ssshe would have killed Harry had ssshe bit him.]_ He gave a snake shrug. _[I eatsss other sssnakesss, their juisssesss don't bother me, although hersss made me very sssleepy and cold for a while.]_

Fawkes watched him closely. A house-elf tried to kill Harry last night! He must get Dumbledore, but he could be almost anywhere and he was in no condition to go find the blasted human. First though, he needed to get the snake out of the wall. He flew awkwardly from his perch, extended his feet and landed softly on Horatio's body near the wall. With a powerful back sweep of his wings, he pulled.

He got another six inches clear when the angle went bad and Horatio screamed, _[Ssstopsss! You are going to break my backsss!]_ Fawkes immediately let go and landed nearby while Horatio thumped to the stone floor. _[Whooomph. Ouch! Thanksss you though, and thanksss for ssstopping ssso quickly. I am rather fond of my backsss.]_ He gave a hissing equivalent of a snake chuckle. _[You might sssay I'm all backsss.]_

Fawkes twittered--the snake had a point--he was rather like a long spine surrounded by muscle and skin. Looking over the scrapes in Horatio's hide, he realised the biggest section was still on the other side of the thick stone wall. _[[I AM sorry. You are well and truly caught. I will try to wake up the others and get help.]]_

_[Thanksss you for trying. You have sssoft clawsss.]_

_[[Actually, they are very sharp, I just didn't poke you with them.]]_ Turning from Horatio, he considered the slumbering portraits on the wall. _[[Let's see, who sleeps the lightest and can still understand me?]]_ He flew from the floor and hovered around Merlin's portrait. Fanning the air around the sleeping man's face, he raucously called, _[[C'mon you old sod. Wake up! You'll have plenty of time to sleep next century! WAKE UP!]]_

Merlin roused, his eyes half open. "Eh, what's that? What's all the fuss about?" he queried sleepily from his frame. Blinking awake and looking around, he exclaimed, "Eh, Fawkes! What are you about? Stop it!" Fawkes flew back to the floor next to Horatio. "What have you there? A snake?" Horatio was writhing on the floor, with little success, trying to pull the rest of him through the hole.

_[[The one who ate Dumbledore's mice is stuck in the wall. He says he has to give the yellow square--and I am assuming that means the parchment--to Harry Potter.]]_

"Snape's snake? Is it urgent? Don't think I've ever seen him come here before by himself," Merlin harumphed.

_[[We need to find Dumbledore--a house-elf tried to kill Harry last night!]]_

"Hmmm. That's a different matter altogether. Phineas! Wake up! We've a snake who says he must see Albus. Phineas, damn you to hell--oops, sorry--WAKE UP YOU SCHEMING REPROBATE!"

"Hmmph, what?" Blinking, Phineas came awake. He looked around and spied the snake. "I say, Merlin, there's a snake stuck in the wall."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "So observant, Phineas. Now why didn't I see that? Such a keen eye. Glad you woke up--I might have missed it."

"Prat," Phineas sniffed, exasperated. "What does he want?"

"You are so thick, Phineas. Why else would he have traveled from the dungeons, by himself, in the freezing hallways? Hmm? He wants Dumbledore, you stoat. Seems that piece of parchment he has with him has some kind of import to him. And he brings news that a house-elf tried to kill Harry last night. Any idea where Albus is?"

Ignoring the last bit of information as irrelevant since he'd seen Harry (alive and well) leave earlier with Dobby when he'd been down visiting Cerise's frame now hanging near the Great Hall, he concentrated on Merlin's question about Albus. "Not really, but finding him should be pretty easy--assuming, of course, he kept his promise to Snape about staying here at Hogwarts for Harry. But you know him--he could be anywhere or anywhen." He sighed, resigned--Merlin rarely bestirred himself out of the portrait unless he was miffed at Dumbledore or wanted to 'occupy' a comely wench. It would be up to him to find the headmaster. "I'll be back," he said, leaving his frame.

Horatio was exhausted and sore. Fawkes went up to his perch (none too soon) and in a burst of flame and smoke, immolated. Horatio was so fascinated by the display and the appearance of a small bald bird out of the pile of ashes at the base of the stand that he almost didn't feel the tentative touch of a velveted paw on his backside out in the stairwell.

But he felt the first smack as Mrs. Norris sank her claws in his hide. With his middle stuck he had a lot of purchase but not much movement, and he concentrated on keeping the front still while whipping the back--not an easy thing to do for a creature who uses his entire body to move. His tail connected solidly with something soft and he knew he'd been successful in hitting the cat when her fangs sank into his tender belly, claws sunk for her own purchase. She tried to rip, as is the way of cats, but his skin was too thick and slick for her to do more than scrape him deeply with claw and tooth.

Instinct took over as the pain rippled up his bones all the way to his head; he was dizzy with it. As she tried for another bite, farther down where there was less of him and the skin was thinner, she captured and bit the flailing tail hard as he released his secret weapon. The sac on his soft underbelly filled with feces and other defence chemicals and, with an involuntary bunching of tiny muscles, the nasty, smelly muck shot out of an emerging pink opening and hit her full in the face as she pulled back and ripped right through him.

He couldn't hear her howls as the alkaloids burned her sensitive face. The feces filled her mouth and nose making it hard for her to breathe, but he could feel her claws scrambling on him as she attempted to get away from the vile mess and the toy that had 'bit' her back. She fell off of the top of the stairs and, twisting in the air, landed on all fours hard on the stone flags below, her joints jarred from the impact. Half-blinded by the stuff clinging to her fur, she bolted.

Horatio lay spent on the floor hissing and growling. Pain. Cold. Scrapes. Torn and Bleeding. Stuck in a wall. _Can this day get any worse?_ he wondered. Putting his head down flat, he waited.

* * *

With the whole day ahead of them, Harry and Dobby took their time. The stroll to the Apparation point outside of the Hogwarts wards provided Harry the rare time to gently tease the house-elf about his progress with his lady-elf in Hogsmeade. When he realised Dobby was quite serious about 'his' Blinky and wanted to join with her, Harry ceased giving him a hard time, his ensuing silence thoughtful. They Apparated to Diagon Alley and instead of heading out to do their shopping, Harry directed them into the Leaky Cauldron, which at that hour was crowded with people eating breakfast.

Sitting down and ordering tea, Harry asked, "Tell me, Dobby, is your lady friend as afraid of freedom as Winky?"

"Dobby does not know, Harry, but Dobby's Blinky does not mind that Dobby is free. Dobby and Blinky does not talk about it and Dobby thinks it does not matter since Dobby's Blinky serves another Master."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Harry said slowly. "It seems unfair to me that you are in two different establishments in the first place. Makes it hard for you both to talk about it in any event." As Dobby drew breath to speak, Harry continued. "While I can't predict if she could accept freedom, I can at least make sure the two of you are together. If you're truly serious about joining with her, that is."

Dobby's eyes widened, his mouth opened in utter shock; he nodded, speechless. Harry chuckled. "Now there's a first--Dobby bereft of words." When Dobby closed his mouth, tears filled his eyes and his hands were shaking. Harry, noting all this, said softly, "All right then. When I get back from my honeymoon, I'll go talk to Jed and see if I can't make arrangements to acquire Blinky. You'll have to help me--I have no idea of how this is done. Jed's a reasonable man for the most part, and remember? That little problem we helped him with is how you met Blinky in the first place. I'm sure we can work something out, whether in trade or outright purchase. Then, if she wants, I can set her free--maybe another sock would be appropriate?" He smiled at the blinking house-elf. "Or not, if she doesn't want it--at least she would have a choice. I've heard I'm not too terrible to have as a master."

Harry stopped and thought about what he'd just said. Property, they were just property, and he began to understand why Hermione was so adamant in her continuing crusade. Appalled at his thoughts, he said, "Merlin, I'm so sorry, Dobby. That's an awful way to say things, isn't it? You know I wouldn't treat her as if I _owned_ her."

While Harry had expected _some_ excitement, he was unprepared to suddenly get a lap full of ecstatic house-elf as Dobby launched himself at him, hugging him tightly as the chair rocked, threatening to spill them both.

"Easy there, Dobby!" Harry exclaimed, laughing and hugging the house-elf back as he righted the chair firmly back on the floor.

Dobby was beside himself. He started kissing Harry all over his face saying, "Oh! Thank you, Harry Potter. Dobby thanks Harry Potter. Blinky thanks Harry Potter. Harry Potter has made Dobby the happiest house-elf! Dobby knows Harry Potter will make it right."

Embarrassed by the display, Harry tried gently prying the house-elf off of him and eventually succeeded in getting him to sit back in his chair, but not to stop bouncing, albeit quietly. He quickly glanced around and winced when he saw he had the undivided attention of every patron in the pub. He looked at Tom, who winked at him and began to make the rounds, drawing their attention away from Harry and Dobby and back onto whatever they'd been doing before the ruckus.

Sighing, Harry shook his head at the still excited house-elf, a small smile on his lips. He glanced at the clock behind the bar, and, seeing it was approaching ten, asked, "Are you steady now?" When Dobby nodded, he said, "Well then, let's get going. We're not going to get everything done by sitting here, are we?"

If Dobby stayed close to him and made little inarticulate noises or did some joyous skipping while they window shopped on their way over to Mrs. Pendergast's store, Harry pretended not to notice; even house-elves needed their privacy and dignity. After stopping at the small store (and volubly admiring the presents) the proprietress cast a simple spell to wrap them before shrinking them. Dobby put them all in a wizarding-space bag he carried.

Moving on, they strolled down the streets and stepped into a few more stores where Harry made some other purchases for himself and Severus. A rare book here, a hard-to-get potions ingredient (just arrived) there, some fresh herbs, some oil for his broom kit--along with others it all added up until Dobby was loaded with packages shrunk as far as it was safe to do so; despite the magic, the bag bulged. They passed Mr. Langley's shop. Seeing it was empty and that the man himself was in the front, Harry stepped in to say hello and show him how his seals had been used. The merchant was pleasantly surprised when Harry gave him one as a thank you. They made their goodbyes after talking a while longer.

As he stepped out of the doorway to Mr. Langley's shop, Harry staggered drunkenly, a wave of deep despair flooding him. Dobby, hampered by the wizarding-space bag, was helpless to stop Harry from stumbling. With wildly flailing arms, Harry righted himself before he fell. He was dizzy, confused for a moment and then, as suddenly as it started, it was gone.

_'Severus? Was that Severus? Gods, where is he? Hogwarts? I must find Dumbledore.'_ The urgency to be away was strong as was a steadily growing unease.

"Is Harry all right?" Dobby asked him, very concerned.

"I'm fine, Dobby. I think--I think something may be wrong. We need to get back to Hogwarts." He didn't notice he was absently rubbing his chest.

While Dobby didn't doubt that Harry _thought_ something was amiss, and yes, they did eventually need to go back, he also knew they were almost done with their errands and thought few more minutes would make no difference either way. Besides, if matters were truly urgent, he knew Harry would insist. "Are Harry and Dobby going to pick up the packages for Madame Pomfrey before Harry and Dobby return to Hogwarts?"

"How long will it take us to get there?" Harry asked, his hand falling to his side, the feeling now rapidly fading, leaving only a vague memory of uneasiness.

"Dobby thinks the store is only down the street," he replied quietly.

Harry thought about it a moment and still couldn't fathom why he'd felt this way. "Very well, but let's be quick about it."

Starting down the crowded lane in the direction Dobby pointed out, they soon found out 'quick' was not really an option on such a fine Saturday. Suppressing his impatience with the delays engendered as they got caught behind one unmoving knot of shoppers after another, Harry ignored the stares of the passersby, each eager to catch this rare glimpse of The-Boy-Who-Lived. Jostled from all sides, he suddenly stopped, shocked motionless in front of a nearby shop. Fighting his way closer, he stared into the window display of fine knives and daggers, his hands flat on the glass. The realisation blinded him to the people running into him, Dobby trying to block the worst of them--all Harry saw were the weapons. _'The knives! Oh gods, the knives! The knives and the staff were missing. Missing from the wardrobe this morning. Severus' battle weapons. SEVERUS, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?'_ he screamed in his mind.

Implacably determined and scared, Harry turned to Dobby, saying in a terrible voice, "Come Dobby, we need to Apparate back home. Now!"

Harry's dismayed impatience almost a physical thing, they urgently pushed through the crowd trying to find a clear spot where they could Apparate home. Dobby was not hampered by such considerations, but knew the human form of Apparation was more volatile than that of the house-elves' easier flip through space and time.

Almost a quarter hour later, such a clearing appeared ahead of them and Harry plunged through the crowd hoping to get there before it closed when he felt the weight of someone's gaze on him. Glancing behind and to the side, he spied Lucius Malfoy's malevolent glare not five feet away. Standing next to him was his young wife, whom Harry had only seen once or twice before; _'Bethany,'_ he thought--she was Avery's daughter, although she looked nothing like him that he could see.

She stepped forward about to greet him, when Lucius grabbed her lower arm viciously, stopping her. She winced and gave a tiny shrug as she stepped back, obedient to his obvious wishes.

Lucius stared coldly at Harry, their eyes locking. Harry didn't know how, but he could almost taste Lucius' hate, his disbelief, and his fear. _'Disbelief and fear?'_ Harry thought, surprised by the feeling he was getting, but it was almost as strong as the palpable waves of terror coming off of Dobby pressed against the front of his legs. He broke eye contact long enough to look down at the house-elf, who, while trembling violently, stood defiant between his current and former masters. When Harry looked back up, Lucius was already turning away with his wife in tow. Harry shook his head of the impressions and, after a quick word of reassurance to his house-elf, made his way to the still open clearing in the crowd, Dobby following close behind.

Once they were gone, Lucius, still holding Bethany by the arm, rushed her carefully but quickly through the crowd. "Let's pick up our clothing and be gone," he snarled, his patience (and his desire to see his mistress again while she shopped) evaporated. "I have some urgent business to attend."

"Certainly, my dear," she said calmly, terrified by the horrible pressure on her arm. She willed herself to not panic. "If it would be easier, I could pick them up myself and you could leave now, if you wish."

He considered it a moment and suddenly realised how he was holding her. "No, my sweets," he said, releasing her arm, smoothing it absently. "You've no one else to carry our things; I will curb my impatience for a few more moments and then we can be away as soon as we are done at the tailor's shop."

Knowing it was the closest thing to an apology she was likely to get, she resisted the urge to rub her arm, which she was sure would be bruised by his manhandling. Saying nothing further, they moved on.

* * *

10:50 am

At the feel of a soft human touch to his head, Horatio lifted it weakly from the floor and regarded the expanse of bright blue in front of him. Gentle hands slid around his thickness halfway between him and the wall and he heard some strange words. Within seconds, he was free of the trap, all of him in the room. He flicked his tongue several times. _[Thanksss you, White One.]_

Expecting and getting no response, with the second set of words from Dumbledore, his hurts tingled briefly and disappeared, his skin whole once more. He hissed his pleasure. With a grunt of effort, Dumbledore picked him up and took him to his chair at the desk and, sitting down heavily, draped the snake over his lap. With one hand holding him secure, the other brushed gently down his cold side muttering a third set of garbled words.

At first nothing happened--if anything Horatio felt weaker. A few moments later, his head popped up to look at his tail--bright warmth flooded through Horatio, sending shots and tingles of energy through his whole length from tip to crown. Sluggish at first but gaining speed, he pulled himself properly into Dumbledore's lap and coiled there, resting. His energy level almost normal, he raised his head and when eye to eye with the old wizard, Horatio brushed his head against Albus' furry face and tasted 'The White One' several times with his tongue. _[You alwaysss tassste sssweet. Thanksss for warming me up.]_

Some acts are universal between species. "You are most welcome, Horatio," Dumbledore replied, brushing a finger down the belly of the snake's body, marvelling anew at just how soft and supple he was. With a quiet chuckle, he said, "Well now, my friend. Seems you've had quite an adventure. I have the--what did Fawkes say you called it?--the Yellow Square and will give it to Harry. You left me quite a stink in the stairway although I daresay Mrs. Norris richly deserved it." He leaned in and whispered, "Filch has already been onto me about what Peeves did to his cat, so your secret is safe." He stroked the snake's head, mesmerised by the low purring rumbling through the sinuous body as Horatio snuggled deeper into Dumbledore's lap.

They had a few minutes of quiet communion before Dumbledore's door chimed. "Well, Horatio. It seems the cavalry has arrived." With the wave of his hand, the door to his office opened to Moody and Shacklebolt. It was obvious, given their hasty dress, they'd come straight away to his unusual summons; it had been years since they'd received their 'bees'. "Come in, come in, gentlemen. Make yourselves comfortable. Help yourself to some tea; I would serve you myself, but I have a small hero to take care of here."

Moody looked over the desk at Horatio on Dumbledore's lap. "Isn't that Snape's snake?" he asked, pouring himself a cup, lacing it with huge dollops of milk and sugar.

"It is indeed, and he has gone to some great lengths, if you'll pardon my pun, and suffered some grievous hurts to let me know we have a serious problem." He continued to stroke the ecstatic Horatio, who coiled deeper into the surprisingly warm lap.

Horatio was a bit curious, though, and stretched up enough to see who was in the office, his tongue tasting as it always did. _Ah, it's the Hairless One,_ he thought, his eyes fixed on Kingsley, _and the Loud One_, he remarked to himself, referring to Moody. Curiosity satisfied, he settled back down to rest. The hand of the White One was dormant and he nudged it the way a cat does when it wants to be petted. A chuckle from the wizard holding him rumbled through his skin and the hand resumed its requested stroking. "You've been associating too long with Cally," Albus murmured softly.

Dumbledore fixed his attention on the two men in front of him and began without preamble, "It seems we have some unforeseen difficulties. Last night, late, I sent Severus and Remus to capture Peter Pettigrew who, according to my source, was out and about in Diagon Alley. It should have been a simple task, but I fear we were either betrayed or set up. Since my 'source' is impeccable and has been feeding us good information for years, I can only assume we were set up. I have already made arrangements to get him out since he has obviously been discovered."

He shook his head at Moody's unspoken questions. "There's more--I think it better to tell the tale all at once than to splinter it." He looked down at the snake in his lap. "Horatio came to me with two messages, according to Fawkes and Phineas, the first being that a house-elf tried to kill Harry last night." He raised his hand, forestalling their obvious agitation. "No, no--Harry's fine, thanks to our valiant friend here. Seems the would-be assassin used a small poisonous snake, not knowing Horatio was there and would make it his late night snack."

While Moody laughed at it, Kingsley was thoughtful. "A house-elf? One of yours?"

"No, the Hogwarts elves are fine and accounted for. They were aware of a brief disturbance late last night in the channel they use to Apparate between here and Hogsmeade, but evidently one of their number has a lady elf in the village, so they thought nothing of it as he frequently goes at all hours to visit her." He took a sip of his own tea, careful not to disturb the now dozing snake. "No, the elf came from the outside; I have subsequently closed the portal."

"So, you need us to go rescue the auld sod and the Wolf?" Moody asked, slurping up some spilled tea from his saucer. "What was the second thing the snake said?"

"Evidently the house-elf, who I believe to be Maldy--" the two men sat up sharply at the name "--took the note Severus left for Harry and threw it away."

"You mean Harry has no idea where Severus is?" Moody asked, concerned. Harry on the loose looking for Severus was not something he wanted to contemplate. He was relieved at Dumbledore's next words.

"Not right now and, until this evening, Harry will remain ignorant since he thinks Severus is avoiding him because of the wedding day superstition of the two of them not seeing each other before the ceremony. Poppy was most insistent they keep to this tradition and since it was harmless and got her off their backs, they agreed." His smile belied the seriousness of the moment.

He held up his hand, solemn; they knew the look well. "Gentlemen, I know we have all been jesting about their up-coming nuptials; I have purposely tried to keep it light-hearted to protect them. However, you should know they are in deadly earnest. I cannot stress enough how important it is they wed and bind _tonight_ with the proper attendants in place. Not tomorrow, not even two years from now, which is when the next acceptable date appears, but tonight, when everything is in its proper alignment."

He paused, his gaze distant. "This goes no further than this room. There are dark days ahead of us and it is imperative these two be bound in a certain way--if not, your chances of success in the future will be severely hampered as will be their abilities to lead in it." He fixed them with a steely gaze. "You must get them both back and keep each other safe as well. Each of you chosen to participate tonight have been selected for a reason, for a strength or quality you will add to their bond. If even one of you is missing, it will be weakened substantially." Dumbledore's face hardened.

"There is one other potential problem. I believe they are at Malfoy Manor. If Lucius has them _AND_ he thinks Harry is dead, he may try to break Severus' mind."

Kingsley and Alastor rolled it around a moment. Moody spoke first. "You mean he may try to convince Severus that Harry is dead while the handfasting bond is still present?"

Thoughtful, Kingsley remarked, "Severus is too strong for Lucius to break him in that manner. It would only work if he's managed to weaken Severus in other ways as well." He sighed heavily and added, "So we may also have to deal with him being seriously injured or dosed or, more probably, both. Quite the daunting task, Albus. A wounded man spelled to the brink of insanity. Anything _else_ we should know?"

Dumbledore hesitated--he knew his next words would anger them with their strictures. He said slowly, "Rumour has it that Avery arrived from France three weeks ago." The start of surprise from both of them was expected--Avery was still wanted by the Ministry. "I believe he's there as well. We all know of his history with Severus, so we can expect him to have been brutal. However, under NO circumstances are you to be distracted by him. Do NOT pursue him. Do NOT try to capture him. Do NOT bring him back."

He allowed them their protests. "Gentlemen, let me remind you of a few things. One, we are not supposed to be there in the first place; explaining your presence and how we 'got him' would require more revelations than I am prepared to make right now and would give Lucius some of the proof he has been trying to obtain to discredit us. Even with Arthur as Minister, we cannot abuse his sensibilities. There are limits to the strings he is willing, or able, to pull for us."

He ticked another point on his hand. "Second, your primary purpose is to get Severus and Remus back here, alive, in one piece, and hopefully sane. You cannot allow Avery to distract you from this. Finally, Avery's part in all this is not over. To try and get him now would be a futile effort and a waste of precious time. You will not succeed and any attempt to do so will seriously undermine your other mission. Am I clear?"

They both nodded, resigned. When Dumbledore used that implacable tone, they knew better than to argue with him. After several minutes of discussing particulars, Shacklebolt and Moody were gone.

Dumbledore sat quietly looking out of the window at the moors in the late morning sun. "Such a rare, fine day, Horatio." He shook his head. "So quiet, so innocent." He sighed, once again stroking the snake, who rose to look him in the eye at the sound of the voice so patently addressing him. "Never you worry, we'll get your Master back--even if I have to go after him myself."

His heart did one of those flops he hated so much, his breath short. Feeling like a weak fool, he reached in his sleeve and pulled out the metal container. Rolling one of the tasteless pills out into his hand, he deftly popped it under his tongue, feeling it dissolve rapidly. Within moments, he could feel the potion working, his heart slowing back down, his breathing easier. "Wondrous things, these. I should have seen a Healer sooner; however, it's not in my nature to do so."

He noticed that Horatio was no longer looking at him but at a mouse that had climbed on his desk looking for biscuit crumbs. Dumbledore laughed, quickly scooping the helpless creature off the desk and putting it out of harm's way on the floor. "Seems we are both going to have to conquer our natures, Horatio. You may have saved your Masters' lives, but you may _not_ eat one of my mice as a reward." He chuckled when the snake looked back at him, eyes bright.

_[Ssshucksss! I am very hungry.]_ he hissed, a little disgruntled.

"Come, let me take you back to your chambers where I am quite sure we can find a nice, juicy rat for you." Horatio slithered over his shoulders and distributed his weight evenly over the old man. Dumbledore was amazed anew just how heavy he was and how good and warm he felt moving along his body. Standing from the desk, he murmured, "I can definitely see the appeal you hold for Severus. You are ever a good friend. Now, let's go see about your snack."

* * *

TBC


	15. Part II : Oh! What a Tangled Web We Weav...

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Fifteen : Oh! What a Tangled Web We Weave--**

**25 October 2003** (continued)

11:30 am

Scabbers, hidden in a dark corner, listened to Avery and Lucius, dismayed at Moony's unresponsiveness and Snape's condition physically as well as the growing distance in the man's eyes.

Beyond what the others' thought, he'd hated Snape as a young man; how could he not? Snape's life at Hogwarts had been the mirror reflecting his own fate should he ever lose the regard of the Marauders. And in the secret depths of his soul where not even he would go, he'd despised them almost as much as he'd hated Snape, for if the Slytherin was the glass, the Marauders, with their breezy confidence and easy acceptance of him, had been the chains binding him in front of it. Only Moony had dimly understood the conflict within him. He'd known this when he'd see the rare glimmers of panic in the werewolf's eyes whenever he'd thought he'd said or done something to earn their displeasure, their rejection. Oh yes, James and Sirius had bound the two of them more surely with their fears than with their affections. And they'd both paid for it in full. Peter had seen to that.

He'd feared Snape's strength and cunning as a Death Eater, his seemingly easy entry to Voldemort's good graces and his ability to defy the Dark Lord, which, instead of earning the same humiliating punishments as his own meagre defiances, had only served to bring the Potions master a reluctant respect and a closer place than even he occupied. And later, after Peter's years of enslavement to the shadowy creature the Dark Lord had become, when whispers of Snape's betrayal reached the Dark Lord, he'd sneered at the dignity Snape maintained in the face of Voldemort's retribution. He'd harboured deep resentment at Snape's escape, relatively unscathed, from his servitude to Voldemort.

But more than anything, he envied Snape for finding something approaching a normal life with Harry despite his past, while he himself remained ensnared, living in the shadows, hiding, his life caught in yet another web with another 'master'. He'd thought it would be pleasing to deny Snape the same pleasures denied him, to see him punished for defiling someone pure, someone who would be better off without him. However, after seeing what Avery and Draco had wrought, heard and comprehended the words Avery had uttered, seen how Snape's whole world had collapsed with the news they'd brought, he'd realised he might have been mistaken all this time. And the resulting guilt from that knowledge ate, like a parasite, what little conscience he had remaining.

He looked over at Moony's still form with deep regret, then forced himself to study Snape. This--this was not part of the deal. They were only going to hold him past the date. They were only to rough him up. He made himself count again Snape's wounds, the cuts, the whip marks. He always lost count when his eyes reached his ribs. He couldn't look lower; it was too painful. His whiskers twitched with the stench of blood and other bodily fluids from Snape and Moony filling his augmented senses. One his most hated enemy, the other his most loved friend. He wondered if there really was a difference.

And Harry. The product of James' carnal attentions to his beloved Lily. Her son. Dead. Murdered with yet another betrayal as surely as if he'd wielded the weapon himself, something he'd not been able to stomach in the past. The prophesied son of his former best friends, who haunted his every night in dreams both bitter and dark. Dreams where he could not hide from the loathsome creature he'd become, the pathetic puppet he'd been. Hating them, he still craved their absolution, their approval, knowing it might never come.

Until now. They stood before him now, their eyes full of bewildered reproach. "Why," they wanted to know and for once he had no answer to give them. He could see Snape through Prongs, Moony behind his Lily; he heard their whispered words to him, "Avenge us, avenge them. You have never failed us in this before, you saved our son before--save his lover and our friend, your friend--now. Save Severus. Save Remus. Save yourself."

He couldn't fail them again.

* * *

11:50 am 

Remus lay spent on the floor, trying to not draw any attention to himself. Every inch of him hurt with the beatings he'd received. More than anything, though, he was confused and numb. Draco and Avery had left a few minutes before, talking about needing some sustenance; they'd left them both unattended.

He was confused because they were not doing to him as they'd done to Severus. The sessions were shorter, less vicious. He knew he'd survive them. And they'd left him loose, supremely confident in his inability to escape; he wasn't quite sure he should be grateful for the minute opportunity that freedom gave him to get them out of here, or if he should be insulted they thought him so weak that he would not even try.

Watching Avery slowly kill Severus had been harder to take than the fists and boots on his own body. It had finally dawned on him after the last session, watching the older Malfoy murmur in Severus' ears, that their intention was to break him. The question now was why.

He ached with the news they'd brought Severus. Harry was dead. Harry the boy and later the man who was like a son to him; the one he'd sworn to protect. The guilt lay heavy on him and he'd almost welcomed the pain of the second beating he'd received. While it wouldn't absolve him, it did, for the moment it lasted, take away the pain inside from which he couldn't escape. _'Harry would be alive if I hadn't run after Peter or even insisted on the mission in the first place. I should have listened to Severus--I've never doubted his instincts before and like the friend he is, he went anyway despite them.'_ Looking over at Severus, he was appalled anew at his condition--covered in blood, mumbling to himself incoherently, body lax against the bonds. His skin was turning grey in spots, his breathing, when Remus could hear it, was harsh and shallow. Remus was not sure how much longer Severus had, but with the fight gone from him, he knew it couldn't be all that long.

A shadow moving near the back wall caught the corner of his eye and he shifted ever so slightly to see what it was. _'Oh, a bloody rat. Just what we need right now. Probably drawn by the blood.'_ His eyes widened as the shape shifted and Peter Pettigrew stood at the back table. He picked something up and put it in his pocket. Remus raised himself, intent on killing the bastard.

"Wait, Moony!" Peter held up his hand as he came into the light. He was paler than normal, the hair wispy on his sweaty head. He looked desiccated and Remus almost felt sorry for him--but he still wanted to kill him.

"No, don't move. We've not much time. They'll be back any minute." He stopped a few feet away from Remus and reached into his robes, pulling forth two wands; Remus recognised one of them as his. "Here, take these. Get you both out of here. Hide them quickly!" He placed the wands on the floor and slid them across to Remus who grabbed them and, rolling over slightly, tucked them under his ribs.

"Why, Peter? Why all this?" he gasped, his hand still on the wands. He could hex him if he tried, but he needed the answer more than the revenge.

"To hold him past the date," he answered cryptically. "They knew the date was significant. But this," he gestured at Severus' limp form, "was not part of the deal. I didn't know," he whispered. "And Harry!" His voice was almost a sob. "I never meant--" Remus tensed when he raised his wand and whispered, "_Enervate_." While Remus felt the surge of energy pulse through him, Peter pointed at the space where Remus hid the wands. "That's for Harry, for my Lily and James and Sirius. May they forgive me." His head shot up and turned, rapt, to the hallway. "I must go--" and he shifted back as the rat. He scuttled over to the door just as Draco opened it, alone. Draco never noticed the rat sliding out of the room into the freedom of the hallway beyond.

Out of habit, Draco kicked Remus, whose feigned unresponsiveness convinced him the werewolf was still unconscious. It really didn't matter much to him. Remus had been decent to him once, even if he was a pansy. He curled his lip at the stench and went to the table in the back, intent on the tools he needed for Snape--he had a score to settle.

Remus breathed a silent sigh of relief; the wands were safe for the moment. Some things never changed, and Draco's inattentiveness to things that did not interest him, was just one of them. It was a flaw Remus had noticed in his time as his teacher. He was quite certain Avery would not have made the same mistake. He bided his time, knowing it would do them no good to get one of their captors if the others were still wandering around; he needed Avery here as well (and Lucius if he could get him) but the other two would do for a start. There were special techniques he had learned years ago for two wands in such a situation, but he would only be able to do it once; he'd not the energy for more. So he waited.

* * *

11:55 am 

Miraculously, the spot Harry wanted had remained. Reaching it, he and Dobby Apparated back to Hogsmeade and quickly walked from there back to Hogwarts. Harry's thoughts raced ahead of him. _'Lucius was upset by me? By my presence? Why? Why would he care?'_

Harry was no closer to answering his own questions when they entered the castle and soon they arrived at the Headmaster's stair. Harry stopped at the gargoyle and calling out, "_Haupia_," the gargoyle moved aside; the stair started winding up, Harry on the top step, Dobby two behind him.

Dobby had been very quiet since they'd met his old master. He knew the man very well and knew Lucius was not only surprised at seeing Harry Potter, he was incensed at it. He had borne the look he always did when someone thwarted his well-laid plans. Since it didn't happen all that often, it was a rare look to remember well when it did--and run away from when one was able.

When the door opened for him, Harry walked quickly across the room to where Dumbledore sat quietly behind his desk. The old man's hand was raised off his lap, as if to speak, when Harry interrupted him in his urgency. "Albus, I need to talk to you. Something odd is going on."

After a few moments of no response, Harry _really_ looked at him. Taking one glance at the pale skin coated with a fine sheen of sweat, the small, convulsive sips of air, struggling to breathe, between lips of the palest lavender, Harry moved around the desk behind Dumbledore, exclaiming, "Sweet Merlin, Albus!" Without waiting for the old man's head to fall back on his chest, Harry placed his hands on his temples. It took him only a moment to find what he was looking for: a complete blockage in one of the arteries feeding the heart itself. It only took a matter of minutes to carefully clean it out; doing this too fast would surely kill him as quickly as not doing anything at all.

Harry waited a few more minutes to make sure Dumbledore's heart resumed a regular rhythm, taking the time to settle his own. When Albus was breathing easy and relaxed, Harry cast an alarm charm on him that would warn him (or Severus) should Albus get this close again. At least he didn't need the metal ball; Dumbledore had reworked his defences so Harry could get in as needed.

Pulling out as quickly as he went in, he placed a kiss on the top of the old wizard's head as he always did when he finished healing him; it was as much a part of their new ritual as the healing itself. These sessions, while never hidden from anyone, were not spoken of either, something usually between just the two of them, although both Poppy and Severus suspected they were more than just routine checks. No thanks were offered, none were expected; it was always there and always known and kept them on equal footing.

Harry asked him, "How many do you have left?" surmising Albus had taken a failed dose of the _Digitalus_. "And how many a day are you taking? _Please_ don't minimise it--I expected it to increase over time. If need be, we can increase the dosage so you can get more relief with each one and take fewer of them."

Dumbledore chuckled hoarsely. "Time was I knew when you and your friends were pulling a fast one on me. It's supremely amusing to see the tables turned for once." At Harry's knowing snicker, and comment, "You're redirecting--again," Dumbledore capitulated. "Oh very well. This one was my third today. I am averaging five to six per day as best I can remember, some days less, but never more." He paused, his eyes twinkling again. "There, you young upstart, was that the information you needed?"

"Well, it will do for now." Mildly irritated, Harry said with some asperity, "Dobby, please make sure, once again, that the house-elves _KNOW_ he's not supposed to have the fatty foods." Once he got Dobby's nod, to Albus he said, "That's the third one I've cleaned out for you in as many weeks. If you really must cheat, will you PLEASE let me know when you're again up to five or six a day so I know when I have to go in and clean up? Please, Albus?"

Dumbledore almost sounded contrite. "It's not in my nature to do so, Harry. You and I have had this discussion before." He put his hands on those still on his shoulder. "Very well. If it will ease your mind, I promise." Harry squeezed his hands and then moved away.

Coming back to sit on the other side of the desk, he accepted a cup of tea from Dumbledore. While stirring the milk and sugar in it, Albus asked him, "You came to see me about something other than my continued health? Something 'odd' I believe you said."

Harry had almost forgot in his exasperation with the older man. "Actually, some strange things have happened today and I was wondering if you could answer a question for me."

"If I'm able, yes. What is it?" He hid weary eyes behind the teacup.

The gesture was not lost on Harry. He took a deep calming breath; his stomach felt like it was lighter than air. "Where is Severus right now?"

Dumbledore looked puzzled. "Didn't he leave you a note?"

"No, he did not. I am most vexed with him. So, you know where he is?" Harry was relieved--finally some answers.

"Hmmm, that's odd. He said he would leave a note for you before he left." He looked straight at Harry. "No matter. Severus went on an errand for me; I have no idea where he is right now with it. However, he should be back later this afternoon." He chuckled. "Have no fear, he'll be back in time. He was a bit restless, so I gave him something to occupy his time." He knew he was not lying, not really--all of it was true.

Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Albus," he said slowly, enunciating every word. "I don't know why, but you are only telling me part of the truth, aren't you?" When he got no response, but a steady calm regard, he continued, "I'm beginning to see why Severus is so wary of you. He left last night, didn't he? He took his weapons with him, Albus. Why would he do that? Where has he gone?" He paused to give Dumbledore a chance to reply. When none came, he continued questioning him. "What is he doing for you? Why does he need them? And tell me, why did Lucius look at me like I was a ghost?" When he still got no answer, he lost all patience, shouting, "Gods, I hate this! Damn you, talk to me!"

Heedless of the consequences, he whipped out of the chair and loomed over Albus' desk, his weight leaning on his hands braced flat on the top. The power shone from him in his anger and the quiet intensity of his voice was more frightening than the shouts of before. "I thought we were done playing games, Albus. I thought we had agreed to the truth. All of it--not partial lies to fit the moment. Hear MY truth well," he spat out. "If Severus comes to _any_ lasting harm--everything I have ever done up to now will be nothing--absolutely nothing compared to what I will do if I lose him because of your--your foolishness."

With one last look, he begged Albus to talk to him. When he said nothing but calmly looked at the passionate young man, all the love he had in him showing in his eyes, Harry turned on his heel with a cry of disgust, calling out, "Come, Dobby," as he stormed out of the room.

Dumbledore sat still a moment, his mind whirling with the import of Harry's words. He willed Moody and Shacklebolt to hurry; with Lucius knowing Harry was alive, he suspected Severus' life was not worth a tin Knut. He would have no reason now not to kill him, not with Harry's growing reputation as a Healer. While it would take some effort, his skill and their handfasting would be sufficient for him to restore the Potions master, even if near death, although he sincerely hoped it would not come to that.

_'No, Severus' life has no value any more to Lucius.'_ His concern and no small fear took their normal route and with little fuss and a lot of guilt, he took the fourth pill.

* * *

12:30 pm 

Draco found what he was looking for on the back table--a short stout carving knife made entirely of steel, even the haft, which was wrapped in leather for a grip. It would be perfect for what he wanted to do; he knew the tip was honed to a deadly edge because he'd tested it on a plucked hair. Avery was still eating his lunch and this would take but a moment. In fact, it would be so fast, Severus would not even have time to cry out before the deed was done. He took the knife and a dripping wet cloth with him as he left the table.

He made his way to stand in front of Snape. As he looked him up and down, a trickle of conscience, easily suppressed, stung him as his eyes slid down all the welts and cuts and bruises the man's abused body bore. But that was not what interested him, nor was it the low gibberish Snape was muttering under his breath. He ignored them easily and concentrated his attention to the center of the man's chest.

Avery truly was an artist. On either side of Draco's goal were two eyes glaring malevolently at him. The detail, from the feathered brows to the delicate lashes to the dangerous gleam in the carved pupils, was superb. There was an oily evilness about them, and, tracing his finger lightly over the left one, he could feel the leashed dark power in them. He considered their impeccable symmetry a moment, realising his mission would not disturb their perfection; rather it might even enhance it.

He tentatively moved his finger carefully across the dried blood in the center of Snape's breastbone until he found the raised scar he was looking for. With almost gentle care, he used the wet rag to wash the sweat and blood away from the area in question until the skin was reasonably clean and open to his view. There it was; pale and ghostlike in his flesh, a symbol. It looked familiar and he realised the image of the two snakes was the same as the seal on the invitation he'd received a few weeks back to the nuptial reception tomorrow.

He smiled, touching it, feeling the tingle of a different, cleaner power in it. Something personal then. "What's this now, Snape?" he murmured. "Something from Potter? Why did it react when I hit it with the whip? I saw it, you know. I saw where it hit--saw how it incinerated Avery's 'Lady'." He chuckled, lifting the knife. "Well, no more now, my beloved Professor. I am going to make sure it never happens again."

He lightly traced a line around the outside edge of it with the tip of the blade; it bled very little as it was shallow. Draco was merely marking where he intended the final cut. Severus made no sound and didn't move. Smiling again, Draco placed the point of the knife on the line, prepared to start the excision when Severus spoke, lucid for the moment. "Don't, Draco. You'll only hurt yourself."

With a grin and no hesitation, he pressed the knife into the skin down to the bone. As the blood welled bright and hot, the scar silently exploded once more with a flash of light. Draco staggered back with its force, the smoking knife falling to the floor with a loud clatter, his hand singed where the leather had burst into flames. He sat on the floor, rubbing his stinging hand while Severus chuckled softly. "You never did listen to me and look where it's got you. Give it up, Draco. This is one thing at which you won't succeed."

Rubbing his injured hand, Draco said maliciously, "No, I don't think so, Snape. Not this time. I just have to think of a way to lessen its effects." He pondered the problem and time slipped by.

Remus watched and waited.

* * *

Harry had no sooner entered their suite of rooms when his chest exploded in white hot agony. _'The Talisman!'_ he thought, knowing for certain now that Severus was in dire trouble. Without thought, he tried to connect to Severus through the emblem on his chest, but he while he could sense him like one senses fog on one's face, he couldn't make any contact. Thinking hard, he ran into Severus' study, opened the wards, and, rushing into the library, placed his hand on the Talisman set in the table. 

At first it waited for the words he needed to speak to ward the Library, but after a moment, Harry's own magic reached into it and added a second purpose to it through its _Schema_. When he sensed the new properties in it, he cried, "_Defendo Maritas!_" Like a freight train running full steam through a tunnel, his vision narrowed and then expanded rapidly until he could see out the other side into a blank whiteness, insubstantial but not empty. No, he could feel Severus, could feel him both numb and in pain overlaid with a despair so profound it almost overwhelmed him. He couldn't reach him, couldn't talk to him, but he could feel his weakening resolve, feel the Talisman's waning power as it struggled to protect his lover--_Defendo Maritas_--as it was adjured to do.

Without thought, but with purpose, he reached as far as his magic would go and he poured as much as it would hold into Severus' flagging Talisman until he could feel it blazing bright once more. For one small instant, he heard "Harry?" in his mind and he caressed it as best he could before it faded into nothing. As the Talisman got stronger, the connection grew weaker until finally, it broke altogether and he was alone, in the library, his hands braced on the tabletop.

He took a deep breath and another, the air filling his lungs a novel thing until his head caught up with the rest of it and he was himself once more.

"Is Harry all right?" Dobby asked, standing by the opening all but forgotten in the excitement. "Can Dobby get Harry anything?"

Harry stumbled out of the library and, after closing the wards, staggered to the chair at Severus' desk. Sitting hard, he gasped, his voice hoarse and raspy. "Water, Dobby. I have a thirst, like I've had nothing to drink for days." As he greedily gulped the water Dobby brought him, he realised the thirst belonged to Severus. "Damn it, Dobby!" he exclaimed. "We have to find him. He's in trouble. I could feel it."

Closing his eyes to Dobby's concern and curiosity, he declared, "_Repario Aperio_." Within seconds Harry envisioned a fairly well-lit chamber. "There's windows set high in grey stone walls with water dripping over the older mould staining their surfaces. The floor is stone, too, but covered in rust splotches in places. There's an iron door in one of the walls to the left of the windows; it's closed fast--with a bolt shot into the metal frame. But I can't see anyone--I never can. I think it's the nature of the spell." He opened his eyes and giving a frustrated grunt, he hung his head, crying, "Damn it. I don't know where that is. He could be anywhere. Hell, he could even be here for all I can tell."

Dobby swallowed. He thought back to his former Master and the look of hatred on his face when he'd seen Harry. He took his courage in his hands. "Dobby thinks Master Malfoy has Professor Snape, Harry."

Harry looked at him sharply. "Why would you think that, Dobby?"

"Dobby knows of no one who hates Professor Snape more than his former Master Malfoy. Before Dobby was free, Master Malfoy often plotted to hurt Professor Snape before Harry killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"If he has Severus, would you know where they would keep him?" Harry asked him intently. "And more importantly," he asked gently, "would you be willing to take me there?"

Dobby regarded this man who had saved him from a lifetime of slavery and abuse by tricking his former master into something as simple as giving him a sock. He'd seen Harry's bravery constantly in his time with him and his compassion when he healed. He knew his wrath and his laughter and his generosity. He, like everyone else, seemed incapable of denying him anything. "Dobby will take Harry to the secret rooms. They are exactly as you described. If Professor Snape is there, Harry and Dobby will find him. If Dobby is wrong, Harry and Dobby can leave quickly."

Harry put his hand on Dobby's head. "Thank you. A look is all I ask for. Give me a minute to get my things together and we can go."

Dobby nodded, still unsure this was the right thing to do, but knew Harry would not rest until he saw the Professor was not there with his own two eyes.

* * *

Draco was concentrating so hard on his plan, he missed the brief glow from Severus' chest as the Talisman there absorbed Harry's power. Severus' head came up, mystified as he felt stronger, lighter, warmer. _'Harry?'_ he called in his mind. _'Harry are you there?'_ For one instant, he thought he could feel his lover's caress until hopelessness crashed down on him once more. His mind retreated from this new torture, the one where he actually could feel someone who was dead. He hung his head and willed himself to die. 

Having set a course of action, Draco rose from the floor in an easy movement and approached Severus again. He muttered a protection spell for his hands and a holding spell to keep him from being thrown. He approached Severus and this time his knife was so swift, he managed a quarter of the cut before he was flung hard into the far wall by the augmented power of the Talisman. He slumped, unconscious, to the floor, the white-hot knife seared into his palm and fingers clattering away from him as he fell.

Remus debated whether he should get up now and get them out of there, since Draco had so obligingly knocked himself unconscious, but a sixth sense warned him to stay still. Instead, he moved the wands under his ribs to a place under his arm where they could not be seen, but he could get to them rapidly. He had been steadily getting stronger the more he rested and they left him alone, although he knew he would need a huge surge of adrenaline to overcome the stiffness of abused muscles long unused.

His heart kicked into overdrive given who opened the door and entered the cell not a moment later.

* * *

TBC


	16. Part II : When First We Practise to Dece...

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Sixteen : --When First We Practise to Deceive**

**25 October 2003** (continued)

**1:10 pm**

Avery's instincts were prickled by the quiet, a quiet he had not been expecting. Closing and bolting the door behind him, he quickly took in the tableau: Severus was where he'd left him, bound between the two posts, Remus was still apparently unconscious on the floor, and Draco--Draco was slumped against the wall opposite Severus, seemingly asleep. A hard kick to Remus' ribs with no reaction assured him the werewolf was still unconscious. He bent over, shaking Draco's shoulder roughly with a, "This is no time to be sleeping, boy." Getting no response other than Draco's head falling forward on his chest, he soon found a "_Finite Incantatum_" also did nothing to rouse the young man. Avery shrugged; Draco was breathing and not in any immediate danger. Perhaps Snape would have an answer.

He walked over to the man and observed the bloody, aborted incisions in his chest, the wavering line clearly the work of an inexperienced hand. Draco must have done it, but Avery was unable to understand why the boy would have started but not finished. _'Maybe he wanted his pound of flesh and Severus retaliated? Bah! That makes no sense. Look at him, Snape's close to being gone.'_

He looked at Draco's cuts dispassionately and snorted in disgust as he noticed the wound was off-centre to the work he'd done before. Running his hand over the two eyes to make sure Draco had not disturbed the curse, and seeing they were intact, he huffed a short spell, healing the partial slices completely with no scarring. _'There, much better. I am going to have to speak to the boy--he almost destroyed my artwork.'_

He lifted Severus' head back by his hair, noting that while the man was standing and not sagging against the tethers, he was barely conscious. "What happened to Draco, Severus?" he asked dangerously.

"The boy never did pay attention," Severus gasped, his eyes rolling. "It wouldn't let him. Told him it wouldn't. Told him he couldn't. Stupid imbecile! Never did listen to his elders--you should be teaching him better manners. Happened the way I told him it would--"

Avery dropped Snape's head in disgust. The man was barmy--he'd not get anything coherent out of him now. "I can't believe you caved so quickly," he said to Snape, walking over to Remus, prodding him with a foot to the groin, making doubly sure he was still unconscious. "I thought you were made of sterner stuff than that." Expecting (and receiving) no reply, he turned his attention to Draco.

He sat on his haunches disgustedly eyeing Lucius' son in a manner he would not have shown had he been awake. He couldn't stand the arrogant twit, but he _was_ the son of the most powerful Wizard in England. And though Snape was mad, he had the right of it when he said Draco didn't pay attention; it would do _him_ no good if the prat got hurt in what was supposed to be simple fun and games--the lad had a way of twisting things around to his advantage that reminded Avery of his father at that age. No, he had to step smart with this one. A more thorough check of his position and a lump the size of an egg on the side of his head made Avery think Draco had most likely tripped and hit the wall on his own. "Stupid, clumsy git." Totally distracted, he was just drawing his wand to _Enervate_ the young man when a shouted "_Petrificus Totalus_" crashed into him as a bare heel connected with his temple.

Remus watched in satisfaction as Avery toppled over, body frozen in what would be an uncomfortable position later on. He was swaying with the effort from that one kick, but the adrenaline was flowing smoothly, rapidly through his veins, and the aches and pains and stiffness were receding, to be replaced with his very strong survival instincts. He quickly cast the same binding spell on Draco as well, just in case. He would love to linger to see Draco's face when he regained consciousness, but contented himself instead with the murderous eyes Avery fixed on him. "Comfortable there, 'Linny'? No? Too bad," Remus chortled.

Turning away from the men with one last satisfied glance, he dusted his hands, saying, "Sorry we can't stay for tea, but we have a busy schedule this afternoon. Now, where was I? Oh, yes--first things first, though," he said, limping to the back table. While sickened by the array of deadly tools and weapons lining the top, he muttered, "My, my, 'Linny', didn't your nanny teach you to put your toys away when you were through playing with them?" He shuddered at the instruments--Avery had used only a small fraction of what he'd brought. With a supreme effort, the werewolf reached over the neatly arranged array for the water bottle, their clothing, and Severus' weapons laid out at the back against the wall. He took his clothes and rapidly dressed in his inner robe, wincing at the pull of sore muscles and skin; however, to be even partially clothed again made him feel much more confident.

Moving silently, he next poured a small amount of the cool water into the attached cup and greedily gulped it down. He could feel it sliding down his parched throat: it felt like his body absorbed it like a sponge, leaving no trace, so he poured and drank a second cup, the swallowed water sitting in his stomach like lead. He thirsted for more, but limited it to this--to take more at this point would only make him sick.

Finding all of Severus' daggers he carefully reassembled the gauntlets and put them and the staff with Severus' clothes. Quickly he took the cup, the water bottle, and the pile with the weapons and robes over to Severus. Putting the clothes on the floor for the moment, he poured another full measure of water and gently lifted Severus' head up with his hand under his chin; his skin was so cold and clammy. Severus opened his eyes wide when he saw who it was.

"I'm not going to question how you got away, Wolf, but may I suggest you leave quickly before someone else finds you," Snape croaked hoarsely.

"What, and leave you here to enjoy all the fun without me? Very inconsiderate of you, if you ask me. Don't be such an idiot--here, sip this." He tipped the brimming cup to Severus' lips. A tiny bit dripped down his face, but he got the rest of it, his swollen tongue licking around his lips trying to catch every drop. He closed his eyes to savour the hydration, small as it was. Remus, seeing that Severus' thirst was greater than his own, poured another cup. Severus sipped it down about halfway before turning his head away; he'd had enough for now.

But it had helped. His voice stronger, he said, "No, the only idiot here is you if you think you can get me out of here. I won't get more than a few feet before I collapse and then where would you be, hmmm?

"Maybe, maybe not," Lupin murmured, "but at least you would be a few feet closer to the door. If necessary, I'll float you out."

"With what, you fool? Your good looks and charm?" he sneered.

He held up the wands. "Ah, Sevvie, I didn't know you cared." he baited him, knowing anger was as good a crutch as two sticks of wood. "I got you into this mess, I WILL get you out of it." He pointed the paired wands at the fetter on Severus' right arm. With a quick spell, it dissolved and Remus caught Severus as he started to fall.

Severus almost howled as the relieved pressure in his arm and shoulder swiftly turned into agony--bone and muscle began to receive blood once more; it was excruciating and he swayed with the effort to stay upright as he had no desire to wrench the other arm, still bound to its pillar. Severus was not as lucid any more, the pain, wrapping around the knowledge of his loss, starting his retreat into his own personal sanctuary.

Remus watched the changing expressions on Severus' face--he'd been in _this_ position before himself and waited impatiently. He constantly glanced back at the door until Snape had regained some control; he released the second arm. Severus sagged against him, taking huge breaths of air, his head on Remus' shoulder. Remus wrapped his arms around him to support him and, with two flicks of the paired wands, released his legs as well. They staggered back a few steps before Lupin lowered him to the ground.

While Remus had a fairly large repertoire of healing spells to deal with the consequences of his own lunar transformations, they were more centred on the internal havoc the change caused rather than any external healing and were specific to werewolves. Taking mental stock of his injuries, he knew they would be sufficient to heal him most of the way; the rest Poppy would have to take care of when they made it back to Hogwarts. He cast those first on himself; the relief was immediate and with lesions and bruises mostly healed, he felt stronger, more flexible. It felt wonderful to be able to pull in a full breath without the sharp pain of broken ribs; the area was still tender and fragile, but it would do for now.

Severus was another matter altogether, though. Based on what he had witnessed, the most he could do would be superficial, and he was fairly certain that not even Poppy would be able to take care of some of the injuries; Severus was going to need the services of a Healer. Wary of treating anyone but himself, Remus had only learned the basic first aid spells everyone learned in the Order. He shrugged; they might not do much good, but they certainly could cause no harm. Using only his wand, he cast the few general healing spells he knew and an _Enervate_ on Severus; it was enough to seal the open cuts and whip marks and remove the bruising, but it didn't do much else. While breathing easier, his skin was still far too pale--even for Snape.

Fairly sure Severus would stay sitting upright where he was, Remus hastily donned the remainder of his robes, the thick outer cloak warming him quickly. He raised the wands again, saying, "Sorry Severus, you're going to have to go commando--I couldn't find your skivvies," as he magicked Severus' robes, cloak, and weapons on him, ignoring the sharp hisses of pain Snape let out as smooth wool met torn flesh. "That is assuming, of course, that you had any in the beginning. I always thought you were a naughty boy."

He allowed himself a glance at Avery, whose thunderous eyes bored into him. "Don't look at me in that tone of voice," Remus sneered. He left Severus sitting on the floor and stood over the two men. Seeing that Draco was now awake as well, he drawled, "You know, Draco, you have my undying gratitude that you did _not_ listen to Snape when he warned you not to cut him. You should know by now he has a soft spot for hopeless Slytherins, the gods only know why--would have saved you a bit of bother with that coshed head and cost us our freedom if you'd paid attention for once. No matter, we'll bid you both adieu and wish you much luck in explaining this to Lucius. He's _such_ a _forgiving_ man." He raised the wands saying, "Nighty, night--_Stupefy_," as he cast the spell to knock the boy out. He did the same to Avery, relishing the moment the malignant stare went slack. "I hope you both have nightmares," he said, turning back to Snape. He got his arms under his companion and heaved, but had only lifted him a few inches off the ground before his strength failed him. It was all he could do to let Severus back down without hurting him further.

"C'mon you auld sod, you've got to help me here. I don't know if I can levitate you out of here and I need to conserve what little magic I have. I know you hurt--so do I. But I'll be damned if I'm going to leave you behind. So get out of wherever it is you've gone and help me get you moving. I swear to the gods, Severus, if you don't help me, I'm going to transform you into a tiny, bright pink toad to match Tonk's hair and carry you in my pocket. And you _don't_ want to know what I put in my pockets. _Hagrid_ carries nicer things in his pockets than I." He heard the weak chuckle. "See, I knew you were in there somewhere," he muttered, pulling up on Snape again. "Don't make me levitate you. I failed levitation--twice. Terrible NEWT's. There's no telling how many walls I'll crash you into."

With a low groan Severus struggled desperately, clinging to Remus and stood, swaying, before he regained his balance. He was still leaning heavily on the werewolf, though, as they made their slow way across the cell. Reaching the door, Remus shot the bolt and opened it with difficulty; it was heavy and he could only use one hand, the other holding Severus steady. With hesitant steps, and a quick look both ways, they passed through into the hallway beyond.

* * *

**1:15 pm**

Bethany was quite cross with her half-breed cat, Pinkerton (affectionately called 'Pinkie'), who was even more pregnant than she was herself. On their precipitous return to the estate a few minutes ago, after a delay of more than an hour, she'd seen the bushy whisk of a tail heading around the corner, with a suspicious trail of blood behind it, and a glimpse of a limp form carried in her mouth. _'Damn the animal! She's delivering and trying to hide the kittens from me.'_ This was most inconvenient; all of the litter was already spoken for, so she couldn't afford to lose any of them.

Bethany's cats made good, strong familiars; their kneazle magic bred straight and true. They were part of what she exchanged for the juicier tidbits of gossip she collected for Lucius. Mrs. Fortesque, in particular, was one of her primary sources of information from the Ministry as her husband, a loose-lipped man from Fudge's time who had survived the purge, was high-ranking enough to get his hands on papers no one else could obtain. Although the Malfoy name alone was enough to get Bethany into Millie's exclusive clique, the cats she freely gave them and their families bought her entrance into the "inner" circle of close acquaintances--mostly older witches with good connections and wicked tongues. Bethany was under no illusions as to why they tolerated her youthful presence--no cats, no gossip. It certainly wasn't because of any information she gave them, which was little to none, except that which Lucius told her to let slip to them.

Lucius had gone off--somewhere. She really didn't much care where he was as she was still rather scared (and vexed with him) from his rough treatment of her in Diagon Alley. They'd arrived at Madame Malkin's only to find out the robes were not ready. To say Lucius was upset was an understatement when he found it would be at least another hour before they would be finished. When he again refused to leave her there alone, Bethany had saved the poor hapless clerk a serious hexing when she'd smoothly suggested Lucius use the time to visit with his 'niece', Natalie. He'd given her a strange look, but, calming, he'd said that was a very good idea and left shortly thereafter. She wished him well away and used the time to sip tea (brought to her by the fawning, grateful clerk) to calm her own anger at the whole situation; it would not do for Lucius to _see_ her so upset--it was enough that he _knew_ she was.

A little over an hour later, a smug, more relaxed Lucius had joined her. She could only assume his 'toy' had done her job, as was expected. They'd got the new robes and then travelled back to their home by Floo as her pregnancy would not allow her to Apparate. Giving a house-elf her cloak, she swiftly gave the evening meal instructions to another and then went after her recalcitrant feline.

She followed the wet trail the cat left in intermittent stages. She had to find the place where Pinkie was moving the kits. Once she finished giving birth she would stay put, but during the birthing she was always cagey and sly. Based on the direction the queen had gone, she was heading for the lower levels. _'Oh, bother!'_ she thought, drawing her wand, _'I hate going down there--it's always so damp and messes with my hair. Not to mention Lucius gets a bit uptight if I go down there. Like seeing his little 'guests' might upset me or something. He forgets who my father is.'_ She briefly toyed with the idea of calling one of the house-elves to fetch the cat, but remembered that the only two she'd ever trusted to get Pinkie and the kittens safely were the two she'd lost to Lucius' temper.

Resigned to an unpleasant search, she went after the cat. The steep stone steps were uneven and treacherous; she slipped more than once on the way down and had a death grip on the wall railing by the time she made it to the bottom. And of course, the inches of stomach out in front of her helped her balance none. The trail was fainter down here, the dark stone absorbing the moisture like a sponge. And she had a challenge. It appeared the cat had gone in both directions. The trail to the left was fresher than the one to the right, so she followed it, her soft house slippers silent on the stone flags.

She rounded the third bend and gasped. Ahead of her were two men, one old (judging from the grey locks), the other, taller by a head, leaning on him heavily as they limped their way along the corridor away from her. Her gasp made the older one spin around, wand drawn menacingly. The other one turned slowly, almost unbalanced by the other's sudden move. She closed her eyes against the hex she knew was coming; pregnant, she was fairly defenseless, her reflexes sluggish, her magic weaker. Her eyes flew open when she heard the younger one croak, "No, Remus, don't hex her. You'll only hurt her and the child."

"But, Severus, she'll raise the alarm," the old one protested. "At least let me gag her."

She glanced at the younger, taller one and stared, she couldn't help it. She stepped closer to them, hand extended, her head filled with an old memory of when she'd been a little girl, around eight, living in England with her mother. She'd been very ill. The healers called were all Death Eaters like her father, contemptuous of her pain, her lethargy, the fever raging through her. They'd been rough when examining her, their dark magic making her sicker. With heated words to her father, they demanded to know why he was wasting their time--she was, after all, only a girl-child, the last of eight. Why would he bother when he had more than enough children remaining and a wife young enough to bear more?

All except one. This one. He'd been the last to see her. He'd swept into the room, cloak and robes flying, his presence looming; she'd been afraid. Until he touched her. His cool hands had been gentle, his eyes, when not concealed under his hood, compassionate. His voice had been low and rich; it had made her feel safe. He'd seen her once and then the next day returned when her vision was full of fevered dreams; he'd brought her a potion. He'd held her close on his lap, his wand on her throat making her swallow, as her mother had poured the foul-tasting concoction into her mouth; she'd gagged as he'd made her take it.

She remembered his hot warmth as he'd held her freezing body, wrapped in layers of blankets, close against his under his outer robes through the convulsions the potion caused, stroking her hair and rocking her slightly. He'd later held her head over a bucket by the bed as she'd vomited up everything she had in her. Her mother had trusted him enough to let him stay in the room with her alone. And when it was over, he'd laid her weak body on the bed, pulling the heavy, warmed covers under her chin. His black eyes in the firelight had held her gaze for an eternity and then, brushing her hair aside with slender, stained fingers, he'd leant down and kissed her forehead, his long, lank hair smelling of grass and sunshine, tickling her face. Pulling back, he'd whispered, "Don't ever let _them_ tell you that you are less than anyone else. You have courage to spare, little one. You are _better_ than they are."

She'd never seen him again, but she always remembered him and his words. She took another step and others until she was a few feet from him, her face open in its wonder, her wide eyes not leaving his. "It was _you_," she said with a whisper, "I didn't know it was you."

"Hullo, Bethany," Severus rasped gently. "I see you still carry your courage like a shield."

Remus, still under the illusion spell, slowly lowered his wand. He was about to ask her for help, when she said, "_You're_ Severus Snape?"

He chuckled weakly. "Last time I looked I was."

"My husband wants you dead," she stated flatly.

"All the more reason for you to turn around and leave us. It is better you not be involved," he replied with a grimace.

"No. You're hurt, and so is your friend. Fair is fair and I have a life debt with you." With little thought and no regrets, she pulled her wand and cast a rapid series of minor healing spells on them both. It was quickly done and the results were instantaneous. Severus stood taller, he felt stronger, but more importantly, the pain was receding.

Remus felt his stiffness diminish, the remaining bruising going away. He felt almost whole.

She gestured at her belly. "I'm sorry I can do no more, but my magic is not the same."

"It's more than we have any right to expect from the wife of an enemy," Remus said quietly by way of thanks.

"No, not my enemy. This makes us even, Mr. Snape. My life debt is now paid."

"In full, Madame. It is imperative you leave," he said gently.

"I will, but first you have to hex me." She lifted her head high.

Remus let his confusion show. "Hex you? Why?"

"I'm not supposed to be down here, but that damn cat came down and I can't lose her." At their dual incredulity, she continued, "Long story and it's not important. If Lucius finds me down here he will be livid. A hex on me will distract him and give me a reason to be properly cross with you."

Severus seriously considered it. "A Jelly-Arms Hex? Will that suffice?"

"Unpleasant, but harmless--yes, that should do fine." Remus cast the spell and as her arms started shaking and wobbling, she said, "I really hate this. Go now, quickly. And, Severus?" she asked shyly. He looked at her keenly. "Give your intended my best. May you share a long life together."

A shutter went down on his eyes and he would have fallen had Remus not caught him. "How _could_ you?" he gasped, holding Severus upright. "And I thought you fair. That was just too cruel. I should hex you into next week!" He raised his wand.

Bethany was mystified, but she held her ground in the face of his threat. "Why is it cruel to wish someone well?"

"Because Harry's dead and you know it," Remus answered angrily, an inch away from hexing her, baby or no. "They brought word this morning. It almost killed him."

"Harry Potter? Dead?" She laughed outright. "I think not. I just saw him two hours ago in Diagon Alley with a terrified house-elf."

"You're having me on," Remus sputtered.

"No, I assure you, on my Beauxbatons' honour, he's very much alive. It sounds like Lucius is the one 'having you on'. Now hurry; you _MUST_ go." She shooed them away with her shaking arms.

Remus stared at her hard and without a word, Severus leaning heavily on him again, he turned them and they made their way down the hall.

She watched until they were out of sight, checked her light coloured robes to make sure there was no blood on them, and walked back the way she came. She was resigned about not finding the cat and decided she would have one of the new house-elves check around for Pinkie and her kittens later, after supper. She arrived at the stairs and had only made it up three steps when she turned and sat as best she could. Without her arms there was no way to end the spell and safely climb back up the treacherous treads, so she waited, knowing someone would be along soon, if for no other reason than to check on the two escaping men. She willed them safely away.

Not too much later, she heard familiar footsteps approaching from the other direction. She steeled herself for his anger, although her quivering arms were beginning to bother her enough, she was more than a little cross herself. He stopped abruptly when he saw her sitting, dejected, on the stairs going back up to the living areas.

"One wonders why you are down here, _my sweet_." His calmness belied the fury she could see in his eyes.

"Lucius, my dear. Thank the goddess you're here. I was beginning to despair I would _ever_ make it back up the stairs." she temporized, hoping to distract him. "That blasted cat is in labour and has brought her kittens down here to hide them from me. You know how I use them--I can't afford to be missing even one, when--"

He interrupted her, "That does not explain why you are sitting on the stairs." His eyes narrowed, "And why you have no _cat_."

She held up her shaking arms, her stalling time done. "Well, if you'd let me finish--I'm on the stairs because a couple of your 'guests' down here found me and hexed my arms to keep me from hexing them. I can't safely climb the stairs without them, you know. Really Lucius, such company you keep! Surely you could find some with better manners." Working up a good head of steam, she continued crossly, "And I _still_ haven't found Pinkie. This is MOST inconvenient."

"What 'guests'? What did they look like?" he asked her, his eyes even more menacing.

She already had her answer in hand. It had dawned on her while she was sitting here that the older one had been under a disguise spell, which meant Snape must be under one, too. To admit that she knew one was much younger than the other would be like saying she knew him, which would do her no good. However, neither Lucius nor any of the others would _know_ what his disguise looked like because they personally _knew_ him and therefore would not be fooled by such a disguise. It was time to use the tricks taught to her by the Veela of Beauxbatons.

"Two old men, if you must know. Lucius, are you going to just leave me like this, _dear_?" Her eyes were clearly upset by his lack of response to her situation and did not show any of the internal fear heralded by her pounding heart.

Lucius watched her carefully for several moments. Seeing no guile, no flicker of subterfuge, he relaxed, his anger fading into a lazy urgency to go see what had happened. He knew that even if Remus and Severus had escaped, they would not get far in any event--Severus was too weak to move fast and Remus was too stupid to leave him behind.

He pulled out his wand and ended the spell Remus had cast on her. Grateful to have the trembling gone, she rubbed her arms and winced when she hit the bruises he'd left earlier. He softened a bit when he saw the movement. Guessing the cause, he put his hands out. She grasped them and he pulled her up off the stairs, but with a little more pull than necessary for she found herself off balance, swaying towards him. He automatically put his arms around her to steady her as she almost fell off the steps. The baby chose that moment to move strongly in protest at the pressure and his eyes popped open wide.

He'd always stayed well away from his wives and mistresses when pregnant. The sight of their swollen bellies reminded him too much of when he'd first taken the Dark Mark and he'd witnessed the grotesquely distended abdomens of captured Muggles, both men and women, as the Gobbel Worm parasites the Dark Wizards grew in each of them struggled to escape only to be harvested and used for the darkest of charms and potions. He remembered a much younger Severus retching when they'd seen the first one "born"; the boy had taken stripes rather than touch or use one. Lucius had actually respected him for that.

But this mound pressing against him was different. This was (his) and it was the first time he'd ever felt one of his own children before they were born. The sensation of movement against him was almost soothing, more intimate than he'd ever thought possible. He kissed her gently on the forehead. "I'm sorry, my sweets," the endearment for once real, "I didn't mean to unbalance you like that. Are you all right? Did they harm you?"

Sensing the quick change in his mood with immense satisfaction, she wound her arms around his neck in reply and kissed him full on the lips. He tasted of brandy and fine cigars. "I'm fine," she murmured into his mouth. "They left me well alone. And baby's fine, too. The taller one stopped the other one from hexing me further."

He deepened the kiss and for a moment forgot everything that was going on around him. But all good things come to an end, as did their first moment of closeness when the baby kicked hard. "Moody little blighter," he chuckled, his hands loosening from around her gravid waist, one hand on the moving mass.

"He is at that." She chuckled at his raised brow. "Yes, yes--it's a boy. I was going to tell you tonight over supper."

He looked pleased. _'A boy! Finally, another heir.'_ His thoughts ran rampant and he abruptly reined them in--he had other things to take care of at the moment. "Do you think it all right now for you to go up the stairs?" he asked her, genuinely concerned.

Knowing she could hold him no longer, she stepped back within the loose circle of his arms and ran her hand over her hair as if he'd mussed it. She nodded, saying, "Yes, I think so. It's easier to go up them than down." He almost reluctantly released her and stood back, watching her carefully take the stairs slowly, one hand holding her robes up out of the way, the other firm on the rail.

Once assured she would make it upstairs all right, he turned back to the corridor and purposefully strode to the room where the two men were kept. As he was about to open the door, he smirked when he saw Pinkie further on, carrying another kitten in her mouth, leaving her trail. Finally reassured with this 'proof' that Bethany had been telling the truth, he opened the door, much relieved, and went inside.

* * *

TBC


	17. Part II : Lucid Confusion

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Seventeen : Lucid Confusion**

**25 October 2003** (continued)

**2:25 pm**

With the small gifts of healing and time Bethany had given them, the two fugitives made fairly good progress. Lucid, Severus listened to Remus' almost non-stop whispers of what Lucius' wife had told him about Harry and mostly believed it; Bethany had no reason to lie. In his clearer moments, Severus thought about how easy it had been to recognize her after all the years between when he'd first met her _as_ a child and now, seeing her _with_ child. Severus wished Avery's daughter well and hoped her courage and moral decision today would not cost her more than she should have to pay. Just having to live with Malfoy and bear his children was burden enough.

Remus just wanted to find the exit and go home. He could still feel the tingle of Anti-Apparation Wards, so they made their way on foot. Leaving the chamber, they'd made their way to the right. Shortly thereafter Remus and Severus had come to a spot where the hallway divided. Instinct had made him choose the left one. His sense of direction keen, Remus kept them always moving in the same direction, always west along what turned out to be an outer wall passage, each step bringing them closer to freedom. Or so he hoped.

Severus was flagging, and they both knew it. He was holding onto the thoughts of his lover like a lifeline, already running on pure will, but was fast approaching the time when thoughts alone would not keep his body going.

So they made their progress step by ragged step.

Severus interrupted Remus' on-going monologue. "Wolf?"

"Yes?" he asked, Severus' arm over his shoulder.

"You know all those stories we used to hear when we were infants about how the charming prince drags himself, mortally wounded out of the castle by his strength alone, the princess in tow, and they make it back to safety after fighting all the monsters in the magic forest to live happily ever after?"

"Yeah. I remember." Remus chuckled.

Severus' dead weight dragged them both abruptly to the floor. "I think they're full of shit," he declared firmly before his eyes closed.

* * *

**2:30 pm**

Lucius had known the moment he'd set 'The Plan' in motion that the odds were even it would fail. Oh, he'd had little doubt they could capture Snape and Lupin and whomever else Dumbledore might see fit to send after Pettigrew. The circumstances surrounding the timing and placement of the abduction had been easy to control and it took little imagination to reckon that Lupin, in particular, would easily lose sight of the bigger picture to go after Peter regardless of the danger. And Snape, despite his past reputation, had always been a loyal, if moody, person; Lucius could always count on Severus to do the _noble_ thing.

But the rest of 'The Plan' depended on luck as much as skill. Would Esmerelda find the Potter brat? And could she kill him before he charmed her with that gold-tongued Parsel-mouth of his? Would Avery be able to break Snape enough for him to administer the Draught of Despair? Would they be able to keep up the torment for 24 hours without killing either one of the captives? And most importantly, the part none of the others knew about, would he be able to release them without anyone knowing for sure he'd been behind it? These were all questions he'd had while forming 'The Plan'.

No, at best, 'The Plan' had been an iffy proposition.

And so, he'd made an alternate plan--his 'Alibi Plan' as it were--one he'd hoped he would not have to use, but one he'd set in motion as soon as he'd seen Severus and Remus leave the Jolly Mandrake the night before. The moment Lupin had Flooed over to the Cuckoo's Nest (and he knew Snape, at least, had been suspicious of a trap), he'd hurried to the storeroom of the pub with only seconds to spare before the Polyjuice Potion had worn off. Grateful to be rid of the horrid person he'd 'borrowed' (whose body was neatly tucked in the skip behind the seedy establishment), he'd hurried to Natalie's rooms over Flourish and Blotts for a bit of relaxation. Bethany certainly would not miss his presence and so he'd not returned to Malfoy Manor until mid-morning.

Upon his arrival, an excited Maldy had informed him that Esmerelda had been delivered according to 'The Plan' and, at last sight, had already come out of the bag, heading for the bed. Maldy had left Hogwarts, none the wiser of his presence, and had been awaiting the return of his master to give him the good news. It had been early enough that Lucius knew it was unlikely anyone would have found Potter's body yet, but he felt reasonably assured that the brat was dead as Esmerelda would bite anything warm that moved.

Before going down to the dungeons, he'd found Bethany in her morning room catching up on correspondence. After a brief conversation, in which he'd endured with fairly good humour her reproachful looks and subtle innuendo about spending the night with his 'toy', he'd told her to be ready in half an hour to go fetch the robes. With at least _her_ obedience assured, he'd gone to his study, pocketed the Draught, and gone with Maldy down to the dungeons for the final stage of 'The Plan'--the harrowing of one Severus Snape.

It had been beautiful to watch.

Standing behind Snape, he'd felt the urge to once again kiss the neck normally held so straight in its arrogance, now bowed by the heavy weight of Severus' head. While whispering his insidious words to his former lover, he'd felt the tightening he'd always had whenever the boy he'd once tasted had submitted to him freely. He'd wanted to take Severus right there as he'd descended into the hell Lucius had wrought within his mind.

But he'd also needed to put the second half of his 'Alibi Plan' in motion and preservation won out over predilection. Resisting the temptation and staying as long as he dared, he'd left the rest to Avery and Draco. (In retrospect, that had been a mistake; he made a mental note not to do it again; some things actually did require a 'personal' touch.) Fetching Bethany, they'd Flooed to Diagon Alley.

Then they'd seen the Potter brat.

Looking back on it now, it had been, for him, an 'emotionally' difficult afternoon. He'd savoured the triumph of 'Harry Potter's Death', only to have to come to grips with 'Harry Potter's Escape From Death' when he and Bethany had met up with the 'Bloody-Boy-Who-Refused-to-Die-Dammit' in Diagon Alley. Given the dodginess of 'The Plan' in the first place, he'd not been as upset as he'd looked--it was more a thwarted tantrum than a killing rage (small though the difference might be).

The incident at Madame Malkin's had not helped his mood any, although Bethany's suggestion about Natalie had been timely. He supposed she assumed he'd actually gone there, but instead, thinking fast of the consequences should he get caught by Dumbledore in his little game, he'd instead made his way to Knockturn Alley to further his 'Alibi Plan'. Deep inside the district, he'd gone to a little potions shop, hidden from casual view. The three bottles of Polyjuice Potion he'd bought had cost him a small fortune, but Bentley, the owner and his cousin (though on the wrong side of the blanket, to be sure), charged as much for his iron-clad discretion as his wares.

He WAS upset by the loss of his familiar, Esmerelda, though. Upon his return a while ago from the tailor's shop, Maldy reported the portal closed when he'd tried to go back and fetch her. Communication with the one house-elf they still had planted in Hogwarts had indicated his little jewel was dead, but the rumours only went so far as to how it had happened.

Then there was Bethany. He'd at first been suspicious she'd been lying to him about her presence down in the hidden rooms for he could almost taste the magic in the air, some of which 'felt' female. His disappointment and anger were sharp for he actually liked his wife and would have hated to be rid of her. For one brief instant he'd almost thought she'd set the two prisoners free, but the sight of her vulnerability and her sincere vexation with the whole situation (and with him), not to mention the incredibly close and surprising contact with her and their child on the stairs had finally convinced him she was an innocent victim of this whole charade. Seeing the cat with her kitten has sealed it. He'd felt almost pleased when he'd come into the chamber.

However, Lucius' fragile, mellow mood shattered into disgust within moments of entering the room. He stood over Avery's and Draco's unconscious bodies and for a brief moment was tempted to just leave them there until they woke up on their own, even knowing they would probably die of starvation before they did so--he could almost smell the strong spell used to render them unconscious. Male magic. He again was relieved at this further proof of Bethany's noninvolvement.

Unfortunately, he needed them both to help him find the two escapees. With Harry alive, it was even more imperative they delay Snape, although he considered just killing the man when they found him, a thought quickly dismissed because he knew that as long as Dumbledore was alive, this was not an option if he valued his own life. Dumbledore might be old, but he was still powerful, his reach long, and everyone knew how he felt about his protégé. Not to mention the reactions of Harry himself.

Lucius suspected there would not be enough power in the world to protect him should he kill Potter's lover. The Boy-Who-Lived might be one of those foolish Gryffindors, but revenge was revenge regardless of House and the boy _had_ managed to kill his own former master after all. He was already treading dangerous ground having allowed Avery his little 'fun' with Snape, given that his intended was still alive. With careful consideration, he debated putting the last part of his 'Alibi Plan' into play to mitigate and defuse the situation. He supposed sacrificing Avery to the authorities (after assuring he could tell no tales) was an acceptable loss (after all, no one had actually seen _him_ there--Lupin had been unconscious at the time), but he hated like hell to lose his 'enforcer'. And the man was such a master of his work; no one else would be such an artist. He appreciated Avery's uses every bit as much as Voldemort had.

Draco, now, was another matter altogether. Avery had reported that the boy's involvement had been minimal. Lucius could buy his heir's way out of the situation if he had to, or at least claim the follies of being swayed by an older man. This the authorities, if Dumbledore had the balls to call them in, could understand and 'forgive'. Draco certainly had done nothing to warrant a sentence to Azkaban, but if necessary, he could always send him to Europe with Avery. He smiled. _That_ would certainly please Bethany to no end--she loathed Draco, although she was always careful not to show it. And he had to admit that while it would not stop him from using his son, Draco's persistent lack of control did little to endear the boy to him.

No, at this point, he supposed the best option would be to recapture Snape and Lupin, alter their memories so all they would remember was Avery, and then release them as scheduled. It should work--everyone knew how much Avery had been itching to get his hands on Snape. And a little judicious employment of copious amounts of Galleons in the right places would insure Avery's safety back in Europe. Yes, it was a good plan. But only if he could catch his quarry. And for that, he needed Avery and Draco awake. Regardless, there was always the Polyjuice Potion to confuse everyone further should they escape. As insurance, he reached over and plucked six hairs from Avery's head, pocketing them with the bottles in his pocket. These would do nicely.

He sighed in disgust and cast the reviving spell, his lip curling at the low groaning noises made by both men as they regained consciousness. When he realised they were bound as well, he laughed mirthlessly, the sound cold and ringing across the room; he cast the spell to release them. He circled around, his contempt plain on his patrician features. "What a pair of _fools_ you are. Did you even bother to tie the Wolf up?" Seeing the chagrin on Avery's face, he snorted. "No, I thought not. Avery, you know better. And you left their clothes and wands where Remus could get to them and left him alone to do it? I ask you, how stupid can you be? No, don't answer and confirm it."

He stopped in front of them, placing his hands on his hips in an attitude of disdain. "Between my prisoners escaping and that wretched Potter brat still being alive, this has _not_ been one of my better days." Avery and Draco continued to silently rub the circulation back into their limbs. "Do you think you're able to chase those two down and bring them back? Or is even that beyond your feeble abilities? Perhaps I should send the elder house-elves after them."

Avery was the first to speak, his head hanging. "No, sir, we can go get them." He eyed the sun's level out of the window. "Hasn't been all that long, they'll not have got far--Snape could barely walk." Lucius' words sank in at last. "Potter's _alive_?"

Lucius sneered. "Yes, unfortunately. I saw him myself in Diagon Alley earlier today. And do clean yourself up--" Lucius waved his hands at the drying blood on Avery's clothes. "--That's disgusting."

"Damn! Well, that makes things a bit more _interesting_ if inconvenient--doesn't that brat ever die? Does Potter _know_?" Avery asked, standing.

As Avery cast a cleansing spell on his trousers, Lucius said thoughtfully, "No, I don't think so. He would have been more suspicious this afternoon. He was merely puzzled. Bethany saw Snape and Lupin escaping, though, but they hexed her before she could do anything about it."

"Why didn't she come get us, sir?" Avery asked, perplexed.

"She didn't know you were here and they hexed her arms; she could not have opened nor knocked on the door. I found her on the steps because she couldn't climb them." He narrowed his eyes. "Being her father, I would have thought your first question should have been if she was all right."

"Why would it? She's your concern now, and you'd have told me if there'd been a problem," Avery commented. At Lucius' glare, he chuckled. "Since when is it acceptable _I_ question how you treat any of your chattel?"

While Lucius stared at him blankly and then started laughing, Avery looked over at Draco and mentally kicked himself that he hadn't realised Remus had hexed Draco in the first place--or had he? In any event, he should have been more careful and was grateful Lucius had not seen fit to punish him for this fiasco--yet. Avery had a few questions for the younger Malfoy concerning Remus' comments about Snape and the cutting.

Draco, on the other hand, remained silent for once. He still could not believe the shimmering in the center of Snape's chest had knocked him out despite his best precautions; he was willing to allow them any explanation they wished other than the truth.

After a brief discussion on the missing pair's possible whereabouts, Draco still strangely silent, the three of them set off to look for Severus and Remus, Lucius going to the left, Avery and Draco going to the right. Neither one of the other two saw Lucius stop to prepare the first bottle of Polyjuice Potion. Drinking it down, he suffered through the change and, within moments, 'Avery' went after his quarry.

* * *

**2:35 pm**  
  
After jogging to the outskirts of Hogwarts, Harry and Dobby Apparated into the lower levels of Malfoy Manor. Dobby took the lead and within seconds, Harry could feel the tingle of an Anti-Apparation Ward. "How far does the ward extend, Dobby?" 

Dobby turned around and, walking backwards, said, "The Wards start fifteen feet into the Manor. Dobby was told this was done this way to let people in, but not let them out. The Wards will sound an alarm if there is an intruder, but Dobby is a house-elf and will not trigger it; Dobby protects Harry as well." He smiled tremulously, obviously frightened. "Dobby has brought Harry in on the east side of the dungeons where the house-elves come and go. Dobby and Harry must be very quiet, though. Dobby's former Master may still use these hallways; Dobby's former Master called them 'shortcuts'."

Harry nodded his understanding and that he would comply with the silence. They moved quickly on. Several tense minutes later, having met no one, they came to the hidden room. The door was open and when they entered, Harry with drawn wand, a quick inspection showed them a completely deserted room. After a quick circuit around the chamber, Harry found Severus' plain boxers behind a table in the back bearing lines of hideous instruments, knives, and whips of all sorts. He felt weak when he saw them and, steeling himself, opened the senses he'd held in when they'd entered.

He could smell the blood, taste the pain, and knew fear when he sensed the despair in this room. Closing his eyes, he tried to reach Severus through the bond, but sensed what felt like a blockage. With an effort, he pushed through it and for one brief instant made contact with his lover, who was fading in and out of consciousness. He sent as strong a picture of his love as he could before the connection broke and he was alone once more. He wished he knew he'd been able to help Severus during the brief contact.

"Was Harry successful in reaching his Professor?" Dobby asked watching both Harry and the door.

"Yes, and no, Dobby. I could sense him, but I don't know where he is." Harry sighed. "This is most frustrating! If what you tell me is true, he could be anywhere by now. Do you know where we could look for him? Where is the most likely place he could have escaped?" he asked.

"Dobby is thinking the Professor is well away. There are two different sets of passages--the main ones the people use and the ones the elves use. Dobby's former Master did not want to know when the elves were around. The two sets of passages are curved and run a circle around the dungeons. The people one is to the inside, the elf one is to the outside. They are not a maze and not meant to confuse. If the Professor keeps to one direction, the Professor will find his way out. Dobby is thinking Harry should do what Harry said Harry came for--to look around and leave. Dobby and Harry should be going back to Hogwarts and let the Headmaster know what Harry and Dobby have found so the Headmaster can send more peoples to look. Dobby's former Master will not dare interfere if many peoples come."

Harry sighed. "You have a point, Dobby. And it would do no one any good if WE get caught. Very well, let's go back to Hogwarts and tell Albus what we found."

They left the room, turning left, back in the direction from whence they'd come, leaving the door open as they'd found it. A few yards past the door, the wide corridor divided into two passages. Unerringly, Dobby took the right-hand corridor and they all but ran down the wide way, making it almost halfway to the point where they'd come in, when a small pop and an evil cackle stopped them in their tracks.

"Well, well! Maldy has found a people and a Dobby, who should not be here. Maldy's Master will be very pleased."

Dobby stiffened and before Harry could react, popped the short distance to stand between him and Maldy who had snuck in behind them. "Dobby wants Harry to leave and go to where Dobby and Harry talked about. Dobby will keep the Old One from stopping Harry." When Harry stayed to help, drawing his wand, Dobby got angry. "No! Harry Potter cannot fight a Death Eater. Only Dobby can. _GO I SAY_!"

With a gesture and another pop, Harry felt his legs moving rapidly without his will. Walking quickly down the hallway the way they'd been going, Harry struggled against it and was amazed he could not resist nor overcome it; the most he could do was slow down. He could hear Maldy's laughter and Dobby's grunts fading the farther he went, but the blaze of magic--raw powerful magic--he could feel increasing every step he took. The hairs on his body rose, tingling with the strong power dancing in the air. On and on he and the magic went until, after several minutes, he had almost reached the place they had entered the mansion. Just as he was about to step through the wards, a move he knew would be irreversible once he made it, he heard a scream and the compulsion disappeared.

He stopped and, without hesitation, turned around and ran back the way he came. Although he knew it wasn't very far it seemed to take forever and about the time he was thinking he'd missed them somehow, he found them. Twisted almost beyond recognition, Maldy was a charred, smoking heap and Dobby--Dobby was a bloody mess from head to toe. He ran up to the house-elf and placed his hand on Dobby's neck, despairing until he felt the faint pulse fluttering under his fingers. Alive, but barely. Harry had no idea how to heal a house-elf, but knew he had to get him back to Hogwarts as soon as possible.

* * *

**2:35 pm**

"C'mon you auld sod. We have to get going. I know you can do it. Severus? Damn it, Severus! _Wake up!_" Remus tugged on a limp arm; Severus' dead weight didn't budge. Remus sat heavily on the floor, his back against the cold stone wall, weighing his options; there weren't many. Tired of hearing himself think, he said softly, "Well, I could stay here and hope you wake up so we can continue limping our way along." He shook his head. "Might as well just wait for them to take us back for all the good _that_ will do us." He pulled on Severus' arm again, hoping for some resistance. "Or I _could_ try another _Enervate_ with probably the same results, or I can always bow to the inevitable and levitate you out of the Manor." He snorted. "I wasn't joking, you know--"

He listened hard. Had he heard something further down the corridor from where they'd just come? There it was again. He got up silently and peered around the bend. Relaxing, he saw a rat--a real rat this time, not Peter.

Going back to Snape, he drew his wand, saying, "Lovely choices we have here, 'Sevvie'." Remus chuckled weakly. "Only problem is how to get you to Hogwarts without splinching both of us. Right now, I'm not certain I can Apparate myself, let alone both of us."

The other difficulty was that while he'd been teasing Severus about his dismal performance of levitation charms, he hadn't been joking about it at all. He was truly terrible at it and had spent countless hours worrying during his younger years whether that one failing would keep him from passing his NEWT's. He had improved with time and practice--now he could at least get objects or people off the ground in one piece, quite well in fact, he just couldn't steer. He didn't want to hurt Severus any more than he had to; he suspected a few crashes into walls and such would do more harm than good.

Snorting, he decided to wait a moment before deciding--he would take the time to try to cast a few more healing spells. If successful, they could continue on in much the same manner as they had--the exit had to be here somewhere; their way had been fairly straight after all. If it didn't work, well, Severus would just have to take his lumps.

Two spells and an _Enervate_ later, Severus started to rouse, groaning. Remus settled on his haunches in front of him. "C'mon old man, there's the thing. Wake up--we must keep moving."

Remus was about to take Severus' hands to pull him up, when Severus sat bolt upright, eyes wide and staring. "Harry?" he asked on a whisper. "Harry? Where are you?" Wide awake now, Severus stared at Remus. "He's here, Remus, I can _feel_ him. Damn it, he's here."

* * *

**2:45 pm**

Not two steps away from the door, Draco started a low, whining monologue. None of this was fair. Not his fault. Why should he care, anyway? Not his problem. Why should he do the dirty work? Up all night. As the volume rose, so did Avery's temper and not too much farther down the hall, Avery grabbed Draco by the arm and dragged him into a nearby room. Swinging him around, he pushed him against the wall and pinned him there with the main weight of his body. Draco's eye's went wild and he struggled against the older man's greater bulk without success. Avery clamped a hand over his mouth as he hissed, "Listen, and listen well, my little cockaroo. I am not going to let you balls _this_ one up for me. We do this _my_ way, by _my_ rules, the first one being that we move quietly and we _don't talk_. Got it?" He slowly removed his hand from Draco's mouth.

"And if I don't wa--?" Draco broke off mid-word with the sharp pricking of a knife nicking his balls.

"Let me be perfectly clear, _boy_. I have more knives on me than you have years and I know more uses for them than you have for your prick. Defy me one more time and I will _personally_ show you how many ways there are to skin a cock. Are We Clear?"

Wide eyed, Draco nodded. Avery grunted and then chuckled. "Well, I will give you that at least you didn't soil yourself." He pulled away and was about to move off when, turning back around to face Draco, Avery said, "And that's my second rule--I don't care who you lie to as long as it's not me." He laughed low, wheezing. "So tell me, boy, what did the werewolf mean when he said he was glad you ignored the Potions master? Snape said almost the same thing to me. I saw the cuts you didn't finish. Why do them in the first place?"

Draco hesitated, but, when the knife moved back to its earlier position, stuttered, "Th--there's a w-w-ward in the middle of his ch-chest--" when Avery lowered the knife, he continued with more confidence, "--it's what destroyed your whip. I tried to cut it out--well, you _saw_ the results. It threw me across the room."

Avery was thoughtful a moment and then stood back and away, putting the knife in a pocket on the back of his robes. "Next time listen to Snape and come to me, first," Avery said with irony. "I need to think on this, but I'm fairly certain we can turn this around to our advantage to mitigate the damage with your father."

Draco's head came up as he said, "You may need it, but _I_ surely do not."

"Oh-ho, so the little boy thinks he's immune to his father's wrath over making him lose his prizes? You had better start reassessing the situation--you are mistaken if you 'think' you will escape unscathed. Your father doesn't like you any more than I do." Avery waited for a response and getting none, he smirked. "Better, Draco--much better. Now let's go find our 'guests'."

* * *

**2:55 pm**

The screaming echoed off the walls. Remus stopped their progress, his head cocked, listening hard. Severus, limping along next to him, continued a pace before turning to face the same direction, standing slightly behind Remus, his visage grim. "House-elf," he muttered, pulling his staff from the belt at his waist.

Remus tensed at another sound coming towards them: the stealthy footsteps of someone trying not to be heard. He cautiously took several paces forward and, around the curve, unexpectedly found himself almost face to face with Avery. Rocking back in surprise, Avery nonetheless prepared to fire a point blank curse. Stepping back, Remus held up his wand protectively, expecting to be hit with Avery's curse--that never came. With a whoosh of air, Severus' staff, extending to its full length, rocketed past Remus' side, the rounded end of which caught Avery full in the chest, knocking him back the way he'd come, arms pin-wheeling to regain his balance.

Draco, coming from behind, neatly sidestepped the staggering man to fire a hex at Snape. Moving to the side, in the path of the flaming curse, Severus brought his stave up and split it, flinging most of it into the wall to the side of him, where it exploded in a flash of light and fire and smoke. The other part of it, greatly reduced in power, hit the old stone ceiling in a shower of sparks flying down on them, making it difficult to see who was where. Taking this rare opportunity of partial confusion, Remus moved back to place himself side by side with Snape.

Recovered, Avery came running, firing a _Crucio_, which hit Remus full on; he fell to the floor, screaming. With a whirl of the staff, Severus cut the spell and flicked the now-shielded end outwards, sending the remainder of the curse back at its caster. Avery had clearly not been expecting Snape to do this; his wand arm flew up with the force of the returning curse, his body falling back with it. Covering Avery, Draco stepped in and started firing hexes at Snape, who blocked them easily with the glowing stave. As Draco dodged a wild hex sent his way by Remus, still on the floor, Snape took the chance and moved further to the side of the wide corridor to draw Draco away from Remus.

"Come now, _boy_," Severus panted, "is this the best you can do?" Abandoning his hex at the fallen man, Draco's anger offed his aim and the next one went wide. Severus sneered, "I have First Years with better control."

While Severus blocked most of the spells with the stave, distracting Draco, Remus pulled himself up. He'd no more stood when he noticed Avery approaching, his hand at his back. As soon as he saw the knife, he called out, "Severus, watch out," but too late. Concentrating on the fight with Draco, Severus never saw the dagger sailing end over end towards him. Remus tried to catch it with an _Accio_ but missed; the dagger flew true, and with a sickening thud, lodged blade-deep in Severus' left shoulder. The staff dipped enough that Draco's next hex knocked Snape flat on his back, driving the knife further into his shoulder and knocking the wind out of him.

Remus, enraged, let loose a string of hexes at Draco and Avery, hoping it would be enough to give Severus time to get his breath back. Moving ever backwards, he finally came to Snape's side, trying to give him a clear field; even down, Remus knew Severus could do quite a bit of damage.

With Remus concentrating on the curses Draco sent, Avery advanced, strangely intent and silent, throwing the odd curse here and there as a diversion while he relied on Draco to cover his progress. Marking the rhythm of the duel between Remus and Draco, Avery got close to Severus, another long knife in his hand coming up, fire dancing up and down the blade. Severus, struggling to sit up, saw the danger and, despite the injury, raised his half-extended staff defensively to the fore, lengthwise across his chest, hands placed flat on top. With a whispered spell of his own devising, two daggers flew out in rapid succession from his gauntlets. The first one Avery easily dodged, but Severus 'led' him well; the second one tore through Avery's robes, slicing him in the side in a long shallow cut. Severus smiled evilly as Avery's eyes widened--he knew what was on those daggers, and knew he needed to get away quickly to take the counterpotion for the slow-acting poison Severus had used on them.

Counting on Snape's triumph, Avery turned as if to run, waited a beat, and then, whirling back in place, pointed his wand at Snape as he tried to stand, whispering "_Confundus Desparo_." The spell to activate the curse marks on Severus' chest hit true; sitting back down, Severus' eyes glazed over and, with a wheezing laugh, Avery turned and ran down the hall, leaving Draco alone to fight with the furious werewolf. Draco took a hard look at the determination in Remus' face and, casting a smoke charm, ran after Avery. Remus threw a blind fire hex after him; if the howl that followed was any indication, he'd at least winged the boy.

Panting, Remus moved down the hallway, wand at the ready to make sure they were truly gone. Seeing no one as far down the corridor as the bend permitted, he returned quickly, dropping to his knee next to Severus. Thinking Avery had cast a simple confusion spell, Remus said "_Finite Incantatum_." While there was a brief glow and Severus looked a little more lucid, he still sat there docilely, unmoving.

Remus eyed the knife still in Severus' shoulder, studying the haft. Deciding it needed to come out, he quickly cast the appropriate spell Dumbledore had once taught him as a young man for such exigencies. Nothing happened. He said another spell; the knife glowed red. "Damn it--he's got an anti-removal spell on it. I'm sorry Severus, I know we're supposed to either remove it with the spell, or leave it in place if we can, but I don't know what the bastard hit you with and we _have_ to get out of here. Can you walk?" When he got no reply, he sighed, saying, "This is really going to hurt, but I can't move you with it in there; it will just move around and do more damage, not to mention what it could do if I run you into a wall."

Just as he was about to grab the haft and pull, Severus spoke dully, "No. Don't. Serrated edge--back hooks."

Remus sat back on his heels. "Well, this is most inconvenient. I don't know how to take it out without ripping half your shoulder with it." He put his hands on Severus' face. His skin was cold and clammy. Remus moved Snape's robes aside and swore a blue streak at the amount of damage apparent underneath the outer cloak. Severus had taken several hits without him noticing and most of the partially healed wounds had reopened to bleed freely again. "You fool," he hissed, "I'm not worth your life, you silly ass."

"Remus?" Severus whispered, clearly confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Yes, Severus, it's me," Remus said, casting the levitation spell to get Severus floating next to him. "And as to why we're here, well, it's because I was rather stupid." He cast the second spell to get them moving again.

Turning his head to look at Remus, Severus mumbled, "Why am I not surprised." As Remus snorted in amusement, Severus winced, the pain running across his face. "Wolf?" he gasped.

"Yeah?" Remus replied.

He leaned in to hear Severus murmur, "Tell me about that damned prince again."

Moving slowly down the hall, trying to keep the injured man steady while watching their backs, Remus said quietly, "Hmmm. Well, the prince, a strong lad with all the powers of the gods..."

* * *

TBC


	18. Part II : The Chaps in the White Hats

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Eighteen : The Chaps in the White Hats**

**25 October 2003** (continued)

**2:45 pm**

Though normally a patient man, Shacklebolt's guts roiled as they passed the third hour after talking to the Headmaster without finding Snape and Lupin. Not that they'd been actively looking for them _all_ that time. Almost ten minutes had been spent pretending to listen to the last minute instructions every leader, even Dumbledore, feels the need to give that one's heard at least a million times before. Moody had insisted on spending a quarter of an hour in Snape's private lab rummaging through the shelves. For all his efforts, he only took two bottles. Then there was another quarter-hour needed to walk to the Apparation point, through the _dungeons_ of all things--he still didn't understand that one--it was almost as if Dumbledore didn't want them to be seen, but that was absurd.

It hadn't got much better once they'd arrived. The mile-long walk to the Manor had been tense, although, they'd managed quite well with a _Disillusionment_ spell at first; however, once they'd passed the unmarked outer edge of the wards, their disguises fell away. He supposed he should be grateful their presence hadn't set off an alarm, or so Moody remarked when he conferred with a little device he said he'd stolen from Snape's lab. Shacklebolt wondered how he'd missed _that_ little detail.

Within the wards, they passed through several formal gardens, the subtle patterns of which were designed to confuse the mind and overwhelm the senses. Which, as he'd observed to Moody, explained why there were no alarms in the wards; anyone 'in the know' would go elsewhere while 'unwanted visitors' would simply wander aimlessly through the labyrinth until they starved to death. As fortune would have it, Moody's magical eye could see through the subterfuge, so Moody and Shacklebolt (who held onto Moody's cloak) walked a clear path to the Manor proper relatively unscathed. But not necessarily unnoticed. The closer they got to the building, the lower the foliage grew, until the amount of concealing cover available in the landscape would barely satisfy the modesty of a harlot, let alone two grown men trying to sneak in somewhere they didn't belong.

Once they'd reached the edge of the manor, they'd still needed to get inside, unless (as Moody had caustically pointed out) Lucius thought fresh air and sunshine constituted some kind of torture for the dungeon dwelling Potions master. Shacklebolt had chuckled quietly on the image of Snape screaming in the sunlight, but with Moody's serious face and raised brow, he began to wonder if Moody was really joking.

They'd made almost a complete circuit around the perimeter of the building (including dodging house-elves at the impressive front entry) when they'd spotted a large rat nosing along the wall. Reasoning that the rat looked starved, Moody postulated that the bugger, if looking for food, might just find them all a way in. Surprisingly, he'd been right. Not too much later, when the rat disappeared without a trace, Moody investigated a section of the stone wall around the area where 'the bugger' had been last seen and found some irregularities. Once Moody determined the whole section of wall was much like the entrance to Diagon Alley, they searched for the 'lock'. Shacklebolt found it by accident when he leaned on a stone with his elbow while resting against the wall. If Moody hadn't caught him by the arm, he'd have tumbled headfirst down a steep flight of stone steps.

As cautious as ever while going down the steps and exploring the first passageway, (and Merlin, if he heard the words _Constant Vigilance_ from Moody one more time...) they'd spent some anxious moments anticipating the 'army' sure to greet them when they passed through the anti-Apparation wards they'd felt when entering. He hated being with Moody when he was 'tense', not that Moody was _ever_ relaxed, but being with the man when he was _really_ alert was exhausting. Making a small mark on the wall, they'd set off exploring the passages, eventually coming back to their starting point several times. Not that this had been their intention, but, as Moody pointed out, they were now sure there were two sets of passages, each in a circle, each connected at odd intervals with open areas and, in two cases, connected by stairs going upwards. That had been an hour ago and in the ensuing time, he and Moody had been systematically checking out each room they encountered in the hopes of finding their colleagues.

Shacklebolt was aware of time passing through his hand like water slowly draining down a clogged basin. And he'd remained fairly calm about the whole situation, until ten minutes ago, when they'd heard a blood-curdling scream echo off the walls of the dungeons. Moody, his head tilted to listen, had merely said 'house-elf'. Heart pounding, Shacklebolt was not going to gainsay him; he had no idea what the hell had made that awful sound, but he was very glad to hear it wasn't human.

Two hours of ducking into rooms each time they heard the unmistakable, piping voices of house elves approaching. Two hours of some of the nastiest spaces Shacklebolt had ever been in; mostly store rooms full of half-rotting furniture covered in layers of dust and cobwebs, but the one they'd just left, relatively clean and well lit with a faint 'taste' of lingering magic, looked like some kind of torture chamber with a table full of instruments that had made his blood run cold.

Two hours of Moody occasionally breaking the fraught silence with the gruff hiss of one of his off-colour comments meant to take the edge off the moment, making the still-fruitless search easier to endure. Two hours of whispering inane comments, not really expecting a laugh in return; no, they were more lame thank-you's than anything else. It had been 5 minutes since the last exchange and, yes, like clockwork, he could see Moody draw breath for another round.

"You know, with all the Galleons Malfoy has, one would think he would spend some money on the 'decor'," Moody groused quietly to him as they made their cautious way down yet another corridor, his 'Mad Eye' surveying the area around them. "This 'dank-wet-mouldy-mess' look is getting right old."

Wand drawn, Shacklebolt rolled his eyes for what had to be the thousandth time in the last two hours; at this rate he was going to wear all the shine off of them. "Moody," he whispered with more patience than the man deserved, "it's a dungeon. It's _supposed_ to be horrid and wet and mouldy and--did you hear that?"

Moody slowly crept up to the next bend and peeked around the corner. Straightening, he turned back, giving a soft snort of disgust. "It's that rat again. Looks like the same one we've been running across for the last few hours."

"Hmm. Are you sure?" Shacklebolt asked sceptically.

Moody shrugged indifferently. "As much as I can be without really noticing. It has a funny cowlick in the fur on its back near the neck, like water down a drain. Wasn't paying all that much attention other than seeing it wasn't a person."

Curious now, Shacklebolt asked, "What's it doing this time?"

"Walking towards us."

"Not away?" Moody tilted his head to Shacklebolt's question. He continued, "I mean, when we first found it outside, we followed it thinking it might lead us to the entrance of this damned place, and eventually it did. Right to the door, if you want to call it that, or we might still be looking for a way in. And, now that I'm thinking about it, it's managed to stop us every time we've been about to run across someone who could raise the alarm. I'm not a big believer in coincidence."

Moody huffed, "Mph. You may have a point. Haven't seen any house-elves yet, have we?"

"No, but we've heard them and, when we come to one of those open places with the branching hallways, there's usually something there to tell us which one to take. Remember? There was that pile of stones at the entrance to one of the passages and we thought it was part of an old rock slide so we used the other one? What if it wasn't?"

"What? You think the little bugger dragged forty or so stones to the middle of the corridor and set them there as a warning so we wouldn't go down that particular passage?" When Shacklebolt just stared at him, Moody laughed silently, pointing at the walls. "You been eating some of this fungus?"

Shacklebolt shook his head in disgust, his earring glinting in the torchlight, and they moved on. Within moments they passed the rat in question, huddled stiffly against the wall to let them pass. Shacklebolt studied it as they went by, noting the swirl of hair on its back; Moody was right, it _was_ fairly distinctive. The rat's eyes followed them as they passed. Suspicious, he tried looking at the pathetic creature's paws, but they were well tucked under its body; short of picking it up, he guessed he would never know. Given their orders from Dumbledore (and as it had done them no harm), he shrugged and moved on.

"Snape's don't look like this anymore," Moody growled quietly into the silence a few minutes later.

Shacklebolt looked around. "Yeah, I remember them before he took over, when Septimius was six doors down from Flitwick, on Wednesdays and Fridays, that is. The castle kept moving the Hufflepuffs' and Ravenclaws' classroom over by McGonagall's." He eyed the orange fungus growing in the cracks. "Didn't much get down there, being in the Tower and all, but they did look like this, didn't they?"

Moody's lip curled. "And they always smelled like rotten mud--I hated the passages to our common room. At least when Snape cleaned them up, the Slytherins didn't have to endure the taunts about _smelling_ like dirty snakes."

"Neat man, our Snape; anal, one might say. He probably has all the old Hogwarts's moulds and fungus and other creepies in jars somewhere in his storerooms for his potions."

Moody chuckled. "Now _that's_ Snape."

"Harry's been good for--"

"_Crucio_!"

Shacklebolt went rigid with the pain coursing through him, the scream coming out short seconds behind the shouted curse.

Moody whirled around and blindly fired a spell to break the curse coming from behind them. Shacklebolt fell to his knees, his muscles still clenched with phantom pain as he helplessly watched Moody duelling with Avery, alone. He gritted his teeth, trying to rise, but fell back. Moody wove and dodged the hexes thrown at him while blocking as many as he could of those aimed at Shacklebolt. Finally getting in place, Moody began to end it in earnest, managing to wing his old enemy with a fire curse, catching his sleeve aflame. With a pained shout, Avery cast a hasty dousing spell, extinguishing most of the flames but leaving the cloth smouldering. Snarling, he slid quickly away down a side corridor.

Moody started to follow, but stopped at Shacklebolt's gasped, "No, Moody! We were told to leave him be." Stopping in his tracks, Moody made a noise of disgust and, making sure Avery was at least out of sight, returned to his fallen comrade's side.

"You all right?" he asked, his magical eye tracking all over the hallway.

Shacklebolt sighed, wincing. "I will be. I've just been hit with one too many of the damned things over the years; makes my legs like pudding for a while."

Moody tugged urgently on his sleeve, anxious to get moving. "Can you walk now?"

Laughing weakly, Shacklebolt replied, "Guess I'm going to have to. Can't exactly sit in the middle of the Malfoy dungeons, now can I? Might piss _someone_ off."

"Might, at that. C'mon, you can loll about the infirmary when we get back to Hogwarts." Putting his hands under Shacklebolt's arms, he helped him to stand. Wobbling a few seconds, Shacklebolt tried one step, then another, and in a few more was steady enough for them to keep hunting. Gods it hurt.

Limping along, his muscles sore, Shacklebolt commented quietly, "I hate that curse. Turns my brains into mush, too. The only thing keeping me moving right now is the thought that if I don't, you'll start planning for both of us. And that's scarier than--than--_Voldemort_."

Moody fixed him with his good eye. "Now none of that. I'll have you know--"

"_Crucio_!"

With a, "Bloody _hell_," Shacklebolt felt the curse run through him like wildfire. Burning, it twisted his insides into molten metal, and he prayed Moody would either hurry, or he would die; whichever came first would be nice indeed. Seconds later he fell; since he found himself on the floor, still breathing, he assumed it was the former rather than the latter.

Shacklebolt was barely aware of Moody dodging a second curse coming at him out of nowhere, but saw him sight on the last flash and guessing the rest, Moody shot off a "_Finite Incantatum_." With some shock, he saw Avery take shape as a _Disillusionment_ spell ended. Avery? Or not? The second curse had been different, weaker than the first. Maybe Avery was tired?

"Dirty bugger, at least you're consistent," Moody mumbled as he levelled his wand, firing off a _Trip Jinx_ that Avery easily dodged. Wincing at his inaccuracy, he called out, "Avery! I knew you wouldn't be able to resist. Now, let's end what we started a few minutes ago! How's the arm?"

Shacklebolt tried to stand and managed to get to his hands and knees.

Firing a hex at Moody, Avery moved to the side avoiding another spell sent his way that exploded behind him sending flying stone in its wake. "Mad Eye, I see you're finally losing what little was left of your mind. I don't know what you're talking about, but if you think you're seeing two of me, then that can only be to the good."

Kneeling upright was an effort, but he managed it. "You know, I'm getting really tired of this," Shacklebolt said, a _Blasting Curse_ flying off his wand at Avery, who side-stepping it, got hit with a simultaneous _Conjunctivitis Curse_ from Moody.

Blinking his streaming eyes, Avery feinted and, barely ducking another curse from Moody, shouted "_Incendio!_" at Shacklebolt, catching him in the chest. Feeling exceedingly foolish and falling back, he could feel the flame eating into him and it took every ounce of will not to frantically bat at it with his hands. His training had some uses after all and the little jingle learned tripped through his mind: 'To touch it is to spread it.' Nonetheless, in an agony second only to the _Cruciatus Curse_, Shacklebolt again wished for a speedy release.

However, as he phased in and out of consciousness, he realised the gods must have some further use for him as Moody instantly used an extinguishing spell; he cried out at the surcease of the burning. In the background he could vaguely hear Avery casting the spell to clear his eyes. Through his lashes, Shacklebolt watched Moody stand with that 'NOW, I'm really going to kill you' _look_ that always scared the pants off of him, both eyes fixed fiercely on his adversary. Avery's eyes widened at the sight and he started moving backwards from whence he came. Stepping in front of Shacklebolt, Moody began to let loose a volley of spells that soon had the air smoking and crackling with magic.

Closing his eyes, Shacklebolt tracked the battle aurally. Judging by the grunts from both men, they were blanketing the area with curses and hexes rather than aiming specific spells. The occasional yelp told him when Avery had been marked, the less frequent growls from Moody indicated he'd not lost his skills in knowing where something was going to land--and not being there. He could hear Avery's wheezing fading as he moved away from them, saying, "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have an antidote to take, so I shall bid you a fond adieu--" Shacklebolt turned his head and looked at him. Avery was almost to the bend in the hallway; Moody was standing his ground in front of him. As he disappeared, Shacklebolt could hear him call, "Until the next time, Mad Eye," and he was gone.

Chest heaving, Moody lowered his wand and, casting one last look around the smoky chamber, dropped to the floor to kneel by Shacklebolt, who complained weakly, "Shit, I _really_ hate this. We need to teach the bastard some new curses; his range is rather limited."

Chuckling, Moody pulled aside his scorched robes, ignoring the hiss of pain Kingsley couldn't stifle as the stiff fabric pulled at the wounds, and dispassionately examined the burns. "Lucky sod--he only caught the skin." Moody retrieved a green bottle out of a pouch at his belt and with a practised thumb, popped the seal. Bending over, he scanned the skin with his magical eye, quickly ascertaining the areas with the most damage. He wet his fingers with the pungent potion and gently began to daub the burns, saying, "Snape's finest _Panacea_ Potion; I pinched it off his shelves before we left. Only the best for you, Kingsley."

Wrinkling his nose against the stench of burnt cabbage warring with the sickening odor of roasted Shacklebolt, he muttered, "Faugh! I hope it works better than it smells." Within seconds the burning eased to be replaced by a blessed numbness. Clearing his throat, he said to Moody as conversationally as he could manage, "The first _Crucio_ was much stronger than the second. I'm thinking one of those two Avery's wasn't Avery, if that makes any sense."

Moody nodded. "Yeah, I reckoned as much about half-way through the second fight. The first Avery's spells were a little too controlled for him; he tends to waste magic rather than direct it. The second Avery just 'felt' more like Avery, what with the wheezing and all. I'm guessing the first Avery was probably Lucius." He studied his handiwork, saying, "There, that's got the worst of it, and I still have some in reserve for the auld sod."

Shacklebolt nodded in agreement. Feeling the last of the pain disappear, he said, "Ah, that's much better. I feel almost human and less like the main course at a barbeque." Shacklebolt smiled at Moody's chuckles. With a few more minutes, the potion had done its work and, looking down at his chest, Shacklebolt could see the areas once charred and bleeding were now pink and healthy with little to no scarring. Pink? He glared at Moody. "Hey! You didn't tell me Snape's potion would turn bits of me white!"

Moody snorted in derision but didn't comment. When Shacklebolt blinked at him, he asked, "Feeling better?"

Clearing his throat, Shacklebolt croaked, "I suppose so, for someone who just crashed and burned."

"There's the spirit. Now let's get you up," Moody said, his voice straining as he lifted Shacklebolt to a sitting position.

Swaying with dizziness, Shacklebolt struggled to his feet. He irritably brushed Moody's hand away when as he reached over to steady him. "I have to do this alone or I'll never get moving." He took a couple of unsteady steps and then, turning around, said with a touch of irony, "What? You get hit with a _Confundus_ or something? Shake a stump; we have two other idiots to rescue, remember?"

Moody just shook his head, catching up to his friend. "All right then. Wands out--_Constant Vigilance_."

"_Arggghhh!!_"

* * *

**3:10 pm**

Remus' pride in levitating Severus, measured by his success in not running the raving man into any walls, soon ended when he crashed him into a stone door frame. Fumbling and cursing, he lost the spell, barely catching him before he became one with the floor. He knelt next to the fallen man, checking to make sure he hadn't harmed him further. His sigh of relief was short lived when he started paying attention to Severus' ramblings.

"Bethany says he's alive, but he's not. Harry was here, but he's not. Albus said he'd keep him safe, but he's not--"

Remus brushed Snape's hair off his face. "Hey, that's a lot of 'not's' there, Severus. You need to keep sight of the good things. Harry's alive and waiting for you." When Severus shook his head in negation of his words, Remus lost patience, crying, "C'mon, old man! Damn it! Snap out of it." Remus wanted to slap him, shake him, anything to stop this set-back. What the hell had Avery cast?

Desperately sensing their time slipping away, a determined Remus stood, preparing to levitate Severus again. Walls or no, they had to get out. About to utter the spell, he heard a noise down the hall from where they'd come. His heart pounding, he turned to face this new threat, Lucius more likely than not, and, the metaphorical gloves coming off, he decided to make the bastard pay for what he'd done. Stalking silently down the hall, he saw the shadow on the wall and stopped. The moment he saw the cloak, he steadied his wand, shouting, "_Crucio!_"

Shacklebolt fell to the ground, curled into a tight ball, screaming again. At the same time Moody raised his wand to hex him, Remus saw his error, and with a gasp of horror, lifted his wand arm, breaking the curse. "Merlin's beard! Next time warn a fellow!" Remus exclaimed, rushing over to help Moody get Shacklebolt off his back.

"Next time I'll remember to bring the fife and drum corps," Moody growled, slapping Remus on the arm. "Good to see you, though."

"Good to be seen. About bloody time you two got here." Remus said dryly, clapping Moody's shoulder.

Still sitting on the floor, Remus could hear Shacklebolt muttering, "What is it with you people? Kingsley's minding his own business--'_Crucio!_' Kingsley's staggering down the hallway--'_Crucio!_' Kingsley's just trying to rescue two idiots--'_Crucio!_'" Lifting his head to the ceiling, he yelled, "Don't you arseholes _know any other fucking spells_?"

Confused, Remus mumbled, "Did I miss something here?"

"How about '_Enervate_'?" Moody asked reasonably as he cast the charm.

Shacklebolt shook his head like a dog shedding water and without too much assistance from Remus and Moody, stood swaying. "Right. That's a good one; now I know you have at least two in your repertoire."

Rolling both his eyes, Moody said to Remus, "Long story--needs a few shot glasses to tell it proper. He turned to look at Severus still on the floor. "How's the auld sod?"

Remus sighed heavily. "Not good, I'm afraid. Avery did _something_ to him, a curse of some kind, but he needs Poppy as soon as we can get him there."

Effortlessly, Moody levitated Severus up off the ground. "Here, Kingsley. Look sharp and hold him while I see what I can do."

Shacklebolt hobbled over to them and held the spell while Moody spelled Severus' robes aside. Remus, usually a practical person, looked on with mixed feelings. While he was relieved Moody and Shacklebolt were here, he felt guilty they needed to be present in the first place, but he was troubled by a touch of unwarranted resentment that someone had felt he wasn't up to the job of getting them out of their predicament, which was just stupid. He tried to dismiss the thoughts as the ramblings of a werewolf pushed a little too close to his limits. He should relax and just go home.

"Hmmm. Nasty. Looks like a _Desparo_ Curse; beautifully set, too. Dumbledore'll know how to break it. I see Avery hasn't lost his touch. Too bad he fights like a sissy," Moody mumbled as he examined Severus. Observing the knife still standing in Snape's shoulder, he muttered, "_That's_ going to be a bitch to get out." Straightening, he looked at Remus, both eyes fixed on him with understanding. "Not much I can do that you haven't already, Wolf," he commented, dabbing some of the potion on the opened wounds. "Well done of you to get him this far, seeing how you're hurt as well." He eyed the scorch marks on Remus' cloak. "Who'd you run into? Avery?"

Somewhat mollified by Moody's observations, Remus replied, "And Draco. Severus was amazing--I'd forgot what he can do with that staff of his. I'm afraid I wasn't much help."

Moody stared at him. "Snape fought?" He swept his hand over his still form. "Like _this_?"

"Well, not exactly--"

Snape interrupted him with an anguished cry. His words ran incoherently together but his message was clear--Harry was dead and he was mourning. Moody did the kindest thing he knew, he cast a silencing spell, saying, "Harry's fine, Severus. Went shopping this morning at Diagon Alley. He's safe at Hogwarts now, waiting for you." He leaned over and whispered softly in his ear, "C'mon, you auld sod; don't let them win. Let's get you home and wed."

Looking up at Shacklebolt and Remus, an indescribable sadness in his face, Moody said, "He's going to need more than Poppy, you know."

"Yeah, I figured that. I'll tell you what happened later when we talk to Albus. It's a long tale and I only want to do it once," Remus replied.

Nodding in agreement, Moody spelled Severus' robes closed, and transferred the levitation charm from Shacklebolt to his own control. Making sure all was secure, the four of them made their way down the corridor.

Shacklebolt planned as they walked. "When we get to the end of the wards, there will probably be an alarm; we won't have much time. Am I the only one who thinks we should do this in at least two stages so we can trade off who Apparates Snape?"

Moody thought about it a moment. "Snape needs to get to Hogwarts as soon as we can get him there. Apparating here wasn't too bad--a bit long, but I think have enough in me to get him all the way to the wards at Hogwarts if you can take over the transport to the castle. You and Remus can Apparate in tandem to save your strength. Dumbledore knows we're coming and as sure as the sun'll rise tomorrow, there'll be someone waiting for us."

Shacklebolt pursed his lips, thinking. "That's doable, if you agree, Remus."

"Even splinching myself sounds good right now as long as it's on the way home," Remus replied on a sigh. "You're the ones who will have to do most of the work. I'll follow your lead." He drew breath to speak when he felt the lifting of the Anti-Apparation wards. "Well, I'll be damned, we were really close."

Moody said nothing, but with both men's help, he changed the levitation spell and, with many grunts and groans, they got Severus settled over his shoulder. Sweating lightly, he calmly said, "See you on the other side," and with a loud bang, he was gone.

"You going to be all right for this?" Kingsley asked Remus over the keening of the intruder alarm. "I'm sorry--we didn't see to your hurts at all."

"I think so; Avery wasn't all that interested in me, thank the gods. It doesn't much matter in any event as long as we get out of here. Oh, and in case I don't get to hear the tale, I'm sorry I caught you with that curse. It was rather--unforgivable--of me."

With Kingsley's bark of laughter, he and Remus clasped forearms and, in unison, spoke the spell to carry them all the way to Hogwarts. As Remus stumbled on arrival, dizzy, he remembered why he hated 'jumping' in tandem, but was grateful for Shacklebolt's steadying hand. As he assessed his condition, all the resentment he'd felt before disappeared in the realization that he would never have been able to make the Apparation alone with Severus. This had been safer for them both.

Looking around him, finally oriented, he saw Kingsley already taking the unconscious Potions master from Moody. Moody swayed a bit when relieved of his burden, but, with a few moments to gather himself, he set off at a bruising pace that Kingsley and Remus were hard-pressed to match. Soon Remus was lagging, but said nothing; it was far more important they get Severus to the infirmary. He could wait.

Coming towards them as they neared the castle was a witch, robes billowing in the light breeze, McGonagall from the looks of it. Closing on them, she called out, "The headmaster sent me to meet you. He wants me to Transfigure both Severus and Remus to make it easier to get them to the castle."

"Bloody good idea," Moody muttered, stopping to let her close the distance. Shacklebolt seconded the sentiment, his strength obviously flagging with the spell he maintained. Minerva joined them shortly and with little fuss, Transfigured the Potions master into a mangy-looking black cat. Her eyes widened a bit at his form, but she said nothing as she effortlessly floated him over to Moody, who cradled him securely in his arms.

"Right then. I'll just be off to the castle," he said, striding off at a good clip. McGonagall turned an appraising eye on Remus, who had just caught up to them. Looking over Shacklebolt, she muttered, "Something small that _I_ can carry." With a wave of her wand, Remus became a small wolf puppy. She bent over and picked him up, holding him fast, trying to avoid his wagging tail and slurping tongue. "Bad puppy," she scolded when he licked her face.

Shacklebolt barely hid his smile, storing away the humourous memory of McGonagall getting a wet face full of enthusiastic Lupin. This was definitely a keeper. Setting a good steady pace, they went on to the castle, Remus wagging his tail behind them.

* * *

TBC


	19. Part II : Of Elves and Men

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Nineteen : Of Elves and Men**

**25 October 2003** (continued)

**3:10 pm**

Harry, in a fit of grim humour, thought that what he knew about house-elves would fit in a thimble, but he knew there were some basics that all creatures shared, so he quickly set about trying to stabilise Dobby to take him back to Hogwarts. He encountered obstacles from the outset; however, he could not even 'read' his small friend as his diagnostic spells sensed only a blank nothingness. Falling back on rudimentary wizarding first aid, he discovered a second problem: surface healing spells, warming spells, and levitation did not work either. Feeling time slip away with Dobby's life blood, he immediately switched to Muggle techniques, grateful that Poppy and Quiesta had insisted he learn them.

Without hesitation, he took off his winter cloak and laid it out on the floor next to his fallen comrade. Gingerly lifting the house-elf, he almost fell on his bum when Dobby proved to weigh far less than he'd anticipated. Setting him down gently, Harry carefully wrapped him in the cloak and, when satisfied he had it properly placed, used a simple shrinking spell on the garment to tighten it into an effective compression bandage. Still amazed at how little the house-elf weighed, he picked him up, cradling the limp body against his own. At first carefully, and then gathering speed, he ran smoothly down the hallway back the way he'd come. No one tried to stop him, although some house-elves, curious over the magical disturbance, flattened against the wall so as not to block him as he sped past them, only marginally aware of their presence.

It didn't take him long to burst through the anti-Apparation Wards, the intruder alarms blazing as he continued on. Dimly aware he was safely through them, he Apparated on-the-fly back to the nearest Hogwarts' Apparation point, right on the edge of the wards. The trip to the castle had never seemed so long, but the tall front door flew open before him, the stairs cooperated, the students traversing the corridors miraculously got out of his way, and the door to the infirmary opened of its own accord seconds before he passed through it. He stopped in the middle of the room shouting for Poppy, chest heaving from the exertion, finally noticing the now-heavy weight of his burden.

Poppy came bustling out of her office and stopped cold at the sight of Harry with Dobby in his arms, the blood now dripping from the sodden cloak already pooling at his feet. "This way," she told him in her normal, no-nonsense manner, walking towards the private rooms. When they entered one of the back rooms, she said, "Place him on the bed." While Harry complied, she turned from him and closed her eyes. Concentrating, she called, "Mendley!" Within seconds a wizened old house-elf popped into the room. She wordlessly indicated the bed, and he immediately spelled the wraps off of Dobby, while Poppy took Harry's arm and dragged him, protesting, out of the room.

"What happened?" she asked, her furious eyes belying her calm visage. "Why is Dobby hurt?"

Harry hung his head and looked everywhere but her. "We went to Malfoy Manor to find Severus," he mumbled, reduced once more to 'wayward student' by her words and tone. When she didn't reply, he continued. "One of the Malfoy house-elves--Maldy, I believe he called himself--caught us when we were leaving. Dobby sent me away and fought this 'Maldy' to protect me. He got hurt killing the other elf."

She tugged on his chin to get him to look at her, her face softer, but no less intense. "Well, the world will probably be a better place without Maldy. He's a bad one, he is. However, did you have no faith that Albus would get Severus home in his own way? He's got--"

She never got to finish as Harry erupted. "No, I did not. Why would I? When I _tried_ to talk to Albus about it, he made it sound like Severus was out getting him Honeyduke's Finest from Hogsmeade. But I knew different; Severus' battle weapons were gone when I checked his things this morning. He _touched_ me through our ward; he was in distress. Albus would neither confirm nor deny my suspicions when I asked and afterwards, when I finally reached Severus, when I could finally _see_ where he was, Dobby thought he recognised the place I described to him, so we went to determine whether Severus was really there. He _had_ been, but Dobby convinced me to come back for reinforcements rather than storm the dungeons looking for him ourselves."

"Well, at least _someone_ showed some sense there," she commented dryly.

"Sense? _Someone_ showed sense?" Harry replied with growing heat. "Let's talk about _that_ a minute. Where is the _sense_ in all this? Albus sends Severus out on an obviously dangerous 'errand' _on our wedding day_! And then refuses to tell me _anything_ when I confront him directly about it. Why, of all the days in the year, did he choose _this one_ to send Severus away?"

Poppy studied the righteous anger on his face and calmly replied, "I hardly think Albus _chose_ today, rather I think the _events_ chose it, but I _am_ confident he would not have sent the four of them if it wasn't of the utmost importance." At Harry's perplexed mein, Poppy added, "Surely you knew that Albus rarely sends members of the Order out alone on missions. Severus originally went out with Remus. When the headmaster realised their predicament, he sent Alastor and Kingsley out after them."

Harry made an effort to rein in his temper. "Now how would _I_ know that? Why would I assume Albus sent Severus out on any mission? Albus _knows_ we both resigned from the Order several weeks ago." He paused, oddly satisfied by the look of shock on her face. Somewhat mollified, he continued. "Besides, Dumbledore was always pretty darn quick to send _me_ out by myself, and Severus almost always worked alone. I didn't know about Remus or the mission or the location--_NO ONE BOTHERED TO TELL ME_--nor was there any note of explanation. No, I had to _guess_ it all." When Harry realised he'd been yelling, he lowered his voice, but not his temper. "But what I _do_ know, Poppy, is Severus has been hurt badly; I could _feel_ it when I was there."

She gave him her steady regard. Quietly she said, "And you don't think Albus already knows this? We've been ready here for the last hour for Moody and Shacklebolt to return with Severus and Remus. They were probably there at the same time you were."

"Wonderful, just one more little detail that slipped his mind," Harry said in a passable imitation of his lover.

Poppy ignored his sarcasm. "He's been most upset by your absence. You should go see him as soon as possible."

Harry looked off to the side. "I'm not certain at this point I trust myself to see the old man."

Poppy nodded, understanding in her eyes. "Has Albus ever broken a promise to you?" At the thoughtful shake of his head, she went on, "If he says you will make vows tonight, you will make vows." Harry made a noise of scepticism. "In the meantime, you have several things to consider yourself." Narrowing his eyes, Harry turned his face back to her, his head tilted in a 'like what?' attitude. Undaunted, Poppy went on, "What would have happened had Lucius caught you as well? What if Dobby had not been successful? Did you stop to think of the consequences? To Severus? To Albus? To us? To the future?"

Harry took pride in his control these days, but the wild surge of anger, coming on the heels of her unexpected scolding, was almost welcomed like an old friend. "No, Damn It, I Did Not. I was not given the _opportunity_ to 'think'. Thinking is reserved for people who are _informed_. I was _manipulated_ and so, I suspect, was Severus."

Chest heaving, he waved her silent and went on in a rush, "I am tired of being played as a puppet. If you or Albus want me to do something, then by damn, just tell me. Don't give me all this run-around and half-truths. In case it has escaped anyone's notice, I am not eleven years old anymore."

His deep anger ebbing, he was more thoughtful if no less vehement. "I already know I have a twisted fate; however, I am an adult. I deserve to be told the truth _at all times_. If you want me to behave in the manner you seem to expect me to, you are all going to have to realise that I have the ability to grasp the 'big picture' as well as any of you."

Poppy waited to make sure Harry was finished. When he seemed willing to listen, she chided, "While I have no doubt you can 'grasp the big picture', as you say, it's your childish, impulsive reactions, like today--leaving without telling anyone where you're going, not thinking it through, as much as your own conviction of your own immortality that makes it difficult for anyone to confide all the details."

Within himself, Harry had to admit there was a more than a grain of truth in her words. However, that did not lessen his intensity as he said, "While I can be rightfully accused of some impetuosity, _in my past_, this is not necessarily how I go about things now, unless there is something needing to be done and it appears no one else is doing anything about it. How am I _ever_ to react in any other manner if you continue to view me as I once was and tell me nothing? Stop assuming what I am going to do. You have no idea who I am now. I _can_ be convinced in a logical manner. If you want me to 'start using my head', to stop acting on my impulses, then you are ALL going to have to stop using YOUR emotions in dealing with me and start using YOUR heads as well. Stop protecting me!"

Her eyes, which had never left his during his tirade, flitted to something behind him. Whirling on instinct, wand drawn, Harry faced Albus, who smiled at his quick reflexes.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Still as fast as ever, I see." He held out his hand, his eyes sad. "Come, Harry, walk with me. We've much to talk about and little time."

At that moment, Harry wished with all he had within him that he had the wherewithal to resist the old man, to tell him to go to hell and leave him be. But he knew _that_ would not be happening anytime soon, for like a son, he loved Albus and felt an inexplicable urge to go with him and take away his sadness. With a keen sense of inner defeat, Harry knew he'd 'walk' with him, and, no matter how angry he was at the whole situation, it would only take Albus' reasonable explanation and a cup of tea to make everything all right between them. And he'd feel like a fool for ever doubting him. Until the next time. Such was the nature of Albus Dumbledore.

Harry turned back to Poppy. "Dobby?" he asked.

She smiled sympathetically. "He's in good hands. Mendley is an elf-healer. I dare not touch him; the house-elves require special care. He'll be fine. I promise you that. Now go."

Harry thanked her and reluctantly left with the headmaster.

* * *

**3:45 pm**

Once assured his 'Avery' persona was in place, Lucius had gone on his way, stopping only to listen when he'd heard the screams. He'd immediately started back the way he'd come, intent on punishing the blighter who'd hurt one of his house-elves. He suspected it was Avery and knew, given the way the former Death Eater had bolloxed his plans, he'd doubly enjoy punishing the man. Then the wards had sounded in his head, letting him know intruders were on the premises. He'd been more cautious in his search, not that it had helped him much in the end.

_'It was just my misfortune,'_ he thought to himself some time later as he settled into one of the chairs in the family sitting room, _'that I met up with Moody and Shacklebolt instead of my real quarry._ He called for a house-elf. _'Nasty little fight, though. I'd forgot how sneaky Moody is, but at least I remembered Shacklebolt's weak spot. Never could take a curse proper, which is probably why he's stuck in the Ministry instead of out in the field. Interesting to confirm he's part of that 'Order' Dumbledore has, though.'_ He'd made good his escape as soon as he'd been able, abandoning the search for Snape and Lupin as impossible with Dumbledore's 'acquaintances' involved as well. _'Damn him. Avery's right--that wretched old man will live forever.'_

Unfortunately, the _Polyjuice Potion_ had worn off during his flight. Concerned he'd meet up with the intruders, he'd prepared the second bottle with some resignation and, after recovering from the transformation, continued on his way, meeting only a few house-elves, who'd fearfully pressed themselves against the walls to let him pass.

"Mister Avery is wanting something from Gabby?"

Lucius startled out of his reverie at the squeaky voice of the house-elf at his elbow. Pulling the sticky sleeve of his scorched robe away from the stinging burns on his arm, he said, "Yes. First, fix this."

With a snap of her fingers, the little house-elf magicked a soft bandage on the wound. Although he knew it wasn't healed, Lucius nonetheless sighed with the brief respite from the pain. Though not deep, the surface burns covering most of his right forearm hurt like hell; this Avery body did not handle discomfort as well as his own did. A second snap from the house-elf later, his robes were whole once more as well.

"Is Mr. Avery wanting anything else from Gabby?" she asked diffidently.

"A brandy and an answer." When she hesitated, he snarled, "Your Master is busy and ordered me to find out which house-elf was hurt in the dungeons." He was fairly sure he'd told the house-elves to obey Avery, but the returning pain in his arm was distracting.

Gabby jumped at the tone in his voice and hastily said, "Gabby is told that Master Malfoy's own Maldy was killed by another house-elf who does not belong to Master Malfoy."

"NO!" Shocked, Lucius filled with unbridled rage. His uninjured arm shot out and caught the house-elf hard across the chest, sweeping her off her feet to fly across the small space. With a thud, she landed against a pouffe in front of the other chair. She picked herself up, trembling. "How? Who was it that did it?" he snapped.

Her eyes huge with fear, Gabby wailed, "Gabby doesn't know, Mr. Avery." She turned and started hitting her head on the arm of the chair. "Bad Gabby! Gabby doesn't know! Gabby should be punished!"

"Enough!" Lucius roared. This was one of the things he hated the most about the house-elves--this overblown, dramatic display of inadequacy that occurred _every single time_ he needed answers from them the most. Impatience roiling through him, he ordered brusquely, "Just bring me a damn brandy and be gone."

Shaking, Gabby went to the sideboard and, from the array of decanters on top, chose a snifter and poured a small amount of Lucius' second-best brandy. He was about to tell her to get him a 'real' brandy and fill it up, when it dawned on him he still looked like Avery; she was merely doing as she'd been told when it came to serving his guests. This small sign that the house-elves obeyed him even when he wasn't around pleased him in a perverse way, so when the fearful Gabby approached, he took the snifter without comment.

He waved his hand, dismissing her and, with a flinch and a 'pop', she was gone. The gratitude on her face was almost comical.

Sitting back, he rolled the liqueur around the bottom of the glass thinking about what Gabby had said. He made himself calm down; making a spectacle of himself would not amuse the help and would not bring his personal servant back. This was an enormous set-back to his plans and he needed to be rational. This went far beyond the loss of yet another 'house-elf'.

Maldy, a pureblood 'Old One', had been one of the few true Death Eaters left from an ancient time. Not a nice elf by any means, but 'his' since his early childhood. Taking a sip of the brandy, he wasn't quite sure he'd 'miss' him. Rather, he'd miss not having a such reliable tool for his dirtier work. Maldy would kill anything; he'd never found a limit, just fluctuations in the amount of pleasure the elf would derive from doing so.

He almost regretted not letting Maldy stay to make sure Esmerelda had killed the Potter brat, but he'd had his reasons. Perhaps, had Maldy remained to observe, his favourite familiar would have succeeded and he wouldn't have lost her. However, based on past experience, Lucius knew Maldy's true Master was Death, not him, and he'd been known to disobey Lucius if it meant serving Death. He'd known Maldy would be unable to resist the siren song of such a powerful Death as Potter's and could not be relied upon to leave no trace when he succumbed. This, more than anything, was why he'd ordered Maldy to come back before he could 'see' the act and why, after taking the hair he needed, he'd let Maldy 'have' the patron at the pub (whose identity he'd used with Lupin and Snape) as a stave against temptation before sending the house-elf off to Hogwarts.

He snorted. Maldy had never been merely a 'house-elf'.

He found it ironic the Dark Lord had used the term 'Death Eaters' for his followers in honour of the 'Old Ones', those whose magic he'd stolen for his own longevity, never fully comprehending what they were truly about. Lucius did, though; he'd been quietly bringing as many of the 'Old Ones' as he could find (they were quite rare and only bred amongst themselves) into his household. Over the years he'd discovered they took Death into themselves as a source of their immense power; literally, 'eating' Death as much as _he_ would eat bread for sustenance. Voldemort had thought the power was shared between them, that by using their magic he would be strengthened whenever his minions killed. The Dark Lord had been wrong; the power gained was only for the individual who satisfied Death.

What had made the 'Old Ones' strong was their ability to not work _against_ each other. That was not saying they worked _together_; before The Binding, they'd been known to have short, nasty wars over the human victims chosen for their rites. However, they did NOT undermine each other. 'Politics' was unknown to them, their 'government', such as it was, composed entirely of clans. There were no 'political' alliances, no intrigues, no switching of sides. There was only filial loyalty and unswerving devotion to the ones they served. The system humans used confounded them and they found the shifting machinations of 'politics' an abomination.

Which made them perfect for his plans.

Well, no matter now--Voldemort was dead and he had no intention of repeating the Dark Lord's mistakes. Now he had to decide who could replace Maldy; he needed a new leader for the house-elves and another willing tool. While he was mentally reviewing the list, he had to wonder who could have possibly killed Maldy. _'Only an 'Old One' can kill another 'Old One' and Gabby said it was an elf from the outside. But only house-elves belonging to my household can make it through the wards without setting them off, and there was only the one intruder alert. Unless--'_

He sat up. Dobby. It could only have been Dobby. Another one of the 'Old Ones', only not so loyal and, as it turned out, not a Death Eater. If he recalled, Maldy had tried to warn him once that Dobby wasn't 'one of them', but he'd dismissed it as one of the little petty jealousies in which they sometimes engaged. He should have had Maldy kill Dobby as a deviant at the time; now the elf was protected by Dumbledore and Potter.

Or could it have been that other one? _'What was her name? Ah, yes--Blinky.'_ He'd told Maldy to get rid of her when she proved to be as intractable as Dobby had ever been. For reasons know only to himself, Maldy had refused to touch her, but had gladly traded her for Falky, a vicious little elf, whose former master (the healer Jed in Hogsmeade) had been happy to get rid of him. Rolling it around in his mind, he decided Falky would be perfect. He'd talk to him tonight about hanging Maldy's head--among other things.

All that remained was for him to tell Bethany he'd 'broken' another one.

Setting aside his house-elf problems, he thought about the culminations of today's events. Mildly surprised that Peter had done exactly as he'd been told and nothing else, Lucius decided the rat's reward would be allowing him to hide for a few more days before seeking him out for his next assignment.

Draco and Avery were another matter altogether. While he'd been fairly mild in their presence, he really was quite upset with the failure of 'The Plan'. _'Now, what to do with them? I cannot leave their inattentiveness unpunished.'_ Thinking on it, he came up with a reparation so fine, it would be both subtle and sublime. He started laughing at the thought of Avery, a victim of the _Medean Curse_ from his disgruntled fourth wife, surrounded by the most beautiful whores in England, forced to watch _his_ son, a dedicated homosexual, fuck them. That ought to give the fools a clear message not to 'fuck' with him. Yes, the more he thought of Draco rutting beautiful women, totally repelled, while Avery hopelessly lusted after them, totally impotent, the more he liked it.

And, given how she _loved_ both men, he made a wager with himself that he could not only get Bethany to buy the aphrodisiacs, she would delight in finding the women to 'punish' them both.

Relaxing, he finished the brandy in the glass. As he was half out of the chair to get him some of his private stock, he heard the sound of soft footfalls entering the room. He glanced over the top of the tall wingback to see who it was--Bethany. He decided to test her loyalties again; after all, why waste good _Polyjuice Potion_?

Sitting back down, he held out the snifter past the arm of the chair where she was sure to see it. "Bethany, fetch me a glass of brandy. And, none of that shit the house-elf gave me, I want the good stuff."

He heard the soft swish of her robes as she moved to his side. Plucking the glass out of his hand, she went over to the sideboard and, getting a new snifter, poured a few measures of his private reserve. When she handed him the glass, careful not to touch him, he waved his arm towards the other chair. "Sit, daughter. I would speak to you. How have you been? Is Lucius treating you well?"

Bethany stiffly walked over to the other chair by the fire and cautiously sat perched on its edge, her wary eyes wandering over 'Avery's' form in minute detail. She suddenly relaxed, her posture easing as she said with quiet asperity, "Really, Lucius. If you must use _Polyjuice Potion_, might I request that you choose someone a little more _pleasant_, like perhaps, Voldemort?"

Incredulous, he chuckled. He knew better than to underestimate her like this. "Caught me, my sweets. How did you know?"

"Other than explaining my 'wifely duties' the night before our wedding, my father has not spoken to me, I believe, since I was twelve, and even if he had, it certainly would not be to enquire after my health." She arched a brow, saying slowly, "My father is many things, but a 'gentleman' he is not. While your words are right, your posture is all wrong; he wouldn't sit so straight. Besides, I'm not even sure my father knows how to cross his legs."

As he shook his head, laughing quietly at this accurate portrayal of Avery, and moved his hand to his head, the sleeve of his robe fell back to reveal the white bandage on his arm, now bearing a growing stain of pink.

"Lucius! You're hurt!" Bethany exclaimed, rising awkwardly from the chair, her hand extended.

"Not too badly, my sweet." He eyed her honest concern as she used her foot to push the pouffe from her chair tightly to his. When she questioned him with her eyes, he nodded, and, using the arm of his chair for support, she settled her ungainly bulk down on the pouffe. She took his hand and, pulling him slightly forward, placed it on her knee while she gingerly unwrapped the bandages. When the swollen, burned forearm was revealed, her face hardened a bit but reflected nothing but a steady regard. She spelled the wraps away and, drawing her wand, prepared to work on it.

He reached out with his good hand and tipped her face up to him. Leaning in, he placed a small, lingering kiss on her lips, murmuring, "Your concern is--refreshing. Don't bother, it will heal soon enough."

She pulled back, astonishment warring with revulsion across her face, but her voice was even as she said, "True, but it could scar and be used as evidence. Really, I'm surprised you would leave it unattended."

"Not truly by choice, _my dear_. A Medi-wizard can talk far more than a scar."

Taking her wand, she started healing it in layers, muttering, "Not with a well-placed _Obliviate_, he couldn't."

Chuckling, he ran his fingers down her cheek. When she flinched, he said, his voice tight, "Not in the mood, my sweet?"

Bethany stared at him a few moments, obviously weighing her words carefully. Lucius was startled when she finally said quietly, "I have never been touched nor kissed by my father in my entire life. In fact, I'd never kissed anyone, not counting my mother and sisters, before that first one you gave me the day my father signed my contract." Her eyes took on a faraway glaze as she whispered, "I remember it, so sweet and full of promise. You were such a gentleman." Shivering a little, she continued, "And except for Doreen, I have not kissed anyone else since that day. Please do not--sully--me by kissing me while you look like--_him_. I would prefer, if you are amenable, waiting the short time remaining until you are more _yourself_."

When he nodded, bemused, she continued to repair his arm in sections, the newly healed skin pink and shiny. Given her condition, it took some time. Concentrating on her task, she absentmindedly asked, "Can I assume from your rather disquieting disguise, and this injury, that you are in the midst of--damage control?"

Lucius chuckled grimly. "That would be one way to phrase it."

"Hmm. One might think you are setting him up to take the blame--not that I care, mind you. Will he be arrested?" she asked thoughtfully. Releasing his hand, she turned the arm, satisfied it was properly healed and would leave no scarring.

He inspected her work, nodding his thanks. "Probably not. If necessary, I'll move him back to Italy."

Bethany sighed, folding her hands on her knees. "Pity. Oh well, I suppose he does have his uses."

Lucius laughed quietly. "True. Just a few," he said, thinking, _'As do you, I suspect.'_ He cleared his throat. "Speaking of usefulness, I need your help."

She looked up at him, startled. "What could I possibly offer?" she asked reasonably, looking down at her stomach.

"Here's what I have in mind," he answered, telling her of his 'plans' for Avery and Draco. Midway through his explanation, the _Polyjuice Potion_ wore off and 'more himself' (as she'd so aptly put it) he finished telling her of his ideas.

Bethany tried to hide the wicked little smile threatening to come out any second. With a delighted lilt to her voice, she murmured, "Indeed." She tapped her finger against her lips, and looked up at him, mischief in her eyes, saying, "Leave it to me; say in a week? I know _just_ the place. Perhaps Draco would 'enjoy' being _restrained_ while a skilled Dominatrix 'pleasures' him?"

Lucius chuckled appreciatively at the picture _that_ made. "Evil woman, remind me not to cross you." He couldn't resist and leant over for another kiss. "You are so full of surprises, my sweet," he murmured, watching her eyes close contentedly as he brushed his lips against hers. _'Is it possible I have at last found an able partner?'_

She pressed his lips with her own, shivering when his tongue tasted her. He broke away and stared, mesmerized with her. She whispered, "What would you need for me to--"

"Lucius? Where the hell are you? Bethany? Have you seen Lucius?"

Startled, Bethany pulled away abruptly, the previous softness in her face giving way to vexation at the interruption. Lucius felt an answering ire that, once again, Avery was spoiling his 'plans', although this time of a different sort. He growled his displeasure, earning him a sharp glance from his wife.

"Only a week, my dear," she murmured discreetly, and with serene features well in place, Bethany got off the pouffe as smoothly as she could and moved to her father, who was halfway into the room.

"Bethany, do you know where Lucius is? I must speak to him." Putting her arm in Avery's, she turned him away from Lucius' chair and, walking him out of the room, said, "Father, let me get you something from Lucius' private stores in his study. I'm afraid something seems to have greatly upset him and he's brooding right now; we both know how well he takes to any _untimely_ interruptions. I'll make sure he's aware you are waiting to speak to him, and I'm quite certain he'll join us when he's ready to be reasonable. We can wait for him there." As she led him, unprotesting, out of the room, Lucius could hear her ask him, "How long do you plan on staying this time?"

His chuckles drowned in a sip of brandy, Lucius admired her adroit handling of her father. _'Brooding, indeed.'_ He sat back, his anger dissipated by her dissembling double entendre. _'Ah, yes, my love, he does have his uses, and so it seems, do you. And a week is not so long after all. I wonder if you'd want to watch?'_ Well-pleased, he laughed and, draining the snifter, went off in search of his marvelous wife and his splenetic minion.

* * *

TBC

* * *

The _Medean Curse_ courtesy of Lydia Lovestruck (used with permission) from the story, "The Medean Curse : A Romantic Comedy" available for your reading pleasure on my site (as well as a few other places). You really should read it! 


	20. Part II : Promises, Promises

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Twenty : Promises, Promises**

**25 October 2003** (continued)

**4:05 pm**

Guts churning, Harry stalked out of the infirmary with Albus. Without noticeable success, he strove to quell the growing, seething frustration mostly caused by the inscrutable man walking by his side. It didn't take much for him to identify exactly what was causing his distress: his fundamental love for the old man, developed through the years, contended with Harry's justifiable anger with him, the result being a slow, simmering rage ready to explode out of every pore. When he added to this volatile mixture a frenetic urge to ensure his lover was well and whole, _knowing_ he was not, it was easy for him to determine the sources of his restless frustration.

This knowledge, however, did nothing to help him find a means to assuage it. He resented the resumption of feelings he'd not experienced since leaving Hogwarts, feelings that now seemed foreign, totally unlike his usual casual optimism. He'd worked hard to earn the calm control he normally enjoyed; this quagmire of emotions was making his life a living hell and he wanted it to stop. Now.

Only he had no idea how to do so; he'd never reached this level of animosity before. No, in order to receive the relief he craved from his perdition, it seemed he would have to rely on half-truths from an insufferable man determined to give him as little as possible in exchange for everything: his trust, his faith, and his love.

_'All I want is answers. Full answers based on truth. Sounds fairly simple even to me.'_ But they'd not been forthcoming, and he still remained ignorant of the circumstances and reasons behind the convoluted events of the past day. With each passing minute his anger grew, as did his resolve to find those answers. _'Even if I have to make someone give them to me.'_

Marginally aware of his surroundings, Harry automatically headed to the right once they'd left the infirmary, but detoured clumsily when Albus did not move towards the stairway to his office, leading him instead down the stairs closest to the dungeons. As they walked, Dumbledore said, "I am going to beg your indulgence a moment and ask that you not interrupt me _too_ often; we've not much time before I must return here. Moody and Shacklebolt are even now on their way to Hogwarts with Remus and Severus; I've sent Minerva off to help them."

Harry stopped mid-stride, turning back the way they'd just come. Dumbledore put a hand on his arm forestalling his flight. "Yes, yes--I know. We're going in the wrong direction." He smiled to himself. "Actually, we're finally headed to where we need to be, but that is another matter altogether."

"But Severus--" Harry began, straining against the surprisingly strong grip holding him in place.

Dumbledore sighed heavily, his gentle words belied by his hand tightening its hold. "Harry you must not go back to the infirmary to wait for Severus. It is imperative we reach your quarters before they arrive."

Incredulous, Harry stared at the headmaster. What had been a slow burning anger blossomed into a rage so hot he couldn't force words past his closed throat. _'So Albus thinks he's going to keep me from seeing Severus? We'll see about that!'_

At Harry's rebellious expression, Albus sighed sympathetically, saying, "I know. You're upset. Anyone would be in your position; however, it _is_ best you not be there when Severus arrives."

_'Upset? He thinks THIS is upset?'_ Harry jerked his arm free. Eyes narrowed dangerously, he hissed venomously, "You meddlesome old man! I am so tired of these--mind-games--you play. You _don't_ care about me, or Severus, so don't insult my sensibilities by pretending otherwise. You've done everything possible to separate us."

Tilting his head, Albus studied him seriously over his spectacles, saying slowly as if Harry were hard of hearing, "No, not everything, but you are correct in your assessment. I am endeavouring to keep a certain distance between the two of you."

_'That almost sounded like a straight answer. Is it possible Albus was serious when he said he'd wanted to talk with me?'_ Harry waited for further explanation, and when it appeared the simple statement was all he was going to get, his impatience won over his hope. "Why? Tell me _now_, Albus. Give me _one_ good reason why I shouldn't march right back to the infirmary to wait for him." He moved closer to Dumbledore and lowered his voice, the words clipped and precise, "And we both know that should I wish it, there is _nothing_ you or anyone else can do to stop me."

Albus straightened to his full height, a dangerous gleam in his eye, one Harry had seen many times before when Albus went 'hunting', but never directed at him. Stiffly, he retorted, "Perhaps not. However I have to ask, _sir_. Is _this_ is your idea of an 'adult' reaction to the situation? Threats and demands?"

Undeterred by Dumbledore's choler, Harry replied, "If that is what it takes to get answers and be with Severus, yes."

Dumbledore snorted in disgust. "So you would abuse your powers to get what you desire? Is this what it comes to in the end? Acting like a spoiled infant throwing a tantrum because you didn't get what you wanted when you wanted it? Wouldn't Severus be so proud?"

Harry almost buckled under the onslaught of Dumbledore's heavy sarcasm, but ultimately it did not stop him pressing the issue. "If I'd 'thrown a tantrum'," he said, mimicking Dumbledore's cutting tone, "when I first 'wanted', I would have hexed you hours ago. And leave Severus out of our _discussion_. _This_ is solely between you and me."

Dumbledore's face grew grim. "I wish that were true. Unfortunately, Harry, you are wrong. Severus is very much involved; his very life is at stake. Can you see no other solutions? Is outward violence the only means you have to resolve your internal conflicts?"

The two glared at each other in deadlock, the air crackling with their latent magic held at bay by only the thinnest veneer of civility. Harry very much wanted to force the issue. He wanted to wipe the expression off the old man's face for good. Shaking, he screamed at him in his mind. _How dare he look at me that way, as if I'm an object of his 'benevolent' pity. He's trying to manipulate me again, but I won't stand for it. Not here. Not now. I want to see Severus. I want some answers. He owes them to me._ Harry pulled and raised his wand--

"Don't do this, Harry," was spoken so softly he almost missed it. As if coming out of a fog, he suddenly saw Albus standing openly across from him, his arms held loosely at his sides, wand nowhere in sight.

Defenseless. Then it caught up to him; Harry _saw_ what he was doing, what he'd _said_. And what it meant. _'Oh gods, I'm acting like--like--Draco!'_ The sobering realisation quenched his anger as quickly as a bucket of water dousing a paper fire. With dawning horror at what he'd almost done, his head bowed, shoulders slumping as his arm fell, the fingers lax. His wand clattered on the floor. Shame lanced through him. His thoughts swirling, he barely saw an old hand swim into his vision near his feet as it picked up his wand, then it disappeared.

_'I almost shrivelled that hand; I wanted to destroy it. Why? What is worth my soul? Severus? No, he would die for me but he would not kill for me. Not like this. For answers to questions I've always entrusted Albus to hold before? Why does it ache now? Is it because I feel powerless? Vulnerable? Yes, and I'm scared. Of what? Of losing Severus? Of being alone again? Oh gods, is that what all this has come to? Is Albus right? I don't understand. Why won't he answer me? Why do I feel like the last person alive on a dead planet? I just want to know--'_

"Why?" he whispered. Strong arms came around him, anchoring him back to reality; the steady heartbeat under his head eased the lonely despair against which he struggled. Letting the soothing words he couldn't understand wash over him like a healing balm, he thought of the things he could say. 'I didn't mean it.' But he had. 'I don't know what came over me.' But he did. 'I won't do it again.' But he would. He knew that now. It wasn't over, it would happen again--maybe not today--but sometime, gods help him, he would lose control. And therein lay the better part of his fear. "I'm sorry, Albus. So sorry," he finally breathed--words he could utter sincerely, muffled as they were against Dumbledore's chest.

Albus held him a few minutes more, one hand stroking his unruly hair, the other firm around his shoulders. The quietly spoken, "It's all right, I forgive you," was exactly what Harry needed to regain his equilibrium. Calmer, the anger from before dissipated, leaving him feeling cleaner, readier to pick up his arguments in a reasonable manner, for while Harry was grossly appalled at his actions, the basic need was still there like a burr stuck to his skin; prickly, it rubbed him raw until all that remained was a burning desire to _know_. This much had not changed with his actions. And he could not say why.

He pulled away, making eye contact with the headmaster, sighing as he said, "You're right--it didn't solve anything did it. I'm sorry I threatened you and I'm sorry for my lack of control. I should know better by now." He stepped back to study Albus' compassion, wondering how he'd ever taken it as pity. Maybe if he tried to explain? "It's just I am so frustrated with this whole situation, and _you_, blast it, are at the heart of it all. You've slapped me in the face with your silence. It hurts. I want Severus and I want answers. Is that so hard to understand?"

A myriad of emotions crossed Albus' face before it settled on affection. "A natural response given the circumstances." He smoothed his hand over his beard. "I _am_ sorry my thoughts were so focused on upcoming events that I bungled the one occurring right in front of me. I was clumsy in my explanations--" he looked at Harry wryly over his spectacles "--though you hardly gave me a chance to complete what I had to say." Harry flushed, this at least was true. "I _do_ understand. It took years for me to finally master the temper accompanying all this red hair--" he looked down at the beard's snowy whiteness "--well, once red. There are still times it can best me. It never does go away; sometimes the most we can do is hold on and hope our internal core is strong enough to keep us from doing things we will later regret."

Harry nodded, hearing echoes of his own thoughts in Dumbledore's words.

Dumbledore hesitated, saying carefully, "Harry, I do care, more, perhaps, than you will ever know. It pains me that Severus has been hurt and believe me when I say I wish there had been some other way or time to do this."

"Do what? What else are you _not_ telling me?" Harry asked, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. "And why, of all the days, did you send him off today?"

Albus chuckled. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I did not awaken this morning saying, 'Ah, Harry's getting married--what can I do to muck it up?'"

Harry muttered, "Well, there's one theory down the drain." Looking back in the direction of the infirmary, he said slowly, "All right, you want to talk. Then do so. Let's start this over, one question at a time." When Albus nodded cautiously, Harry asked, "Why do I need to stay away from Severus?"

Dumbledore relaxed slightly and regarded him kindly a moment. "There are many 'reasons', however, insofar as the infirmary is concerned, Poppy asked me to escort you elsewhere. She is concerned, and I have to concur, that you would be unable to resist healing Severus; at this juncture, doing so could kill him." Seeing Harry's scepticism, he remarked dryly, "Go back if you don't believe me, but don't expect my help when she hexes you onto your bottom."

Harry could sense the truth in his words, although he didn't fully understand them and, drawing breath to protest, let it out all at once in a blowing sigh. Mulling this bit of news over, he was about to comment when Albus touched his arm, interrupting him with an urgency Harry was hard pressed to ignore. "Although I know your dearest wish is to remain here and be with Severus, we should be going. Our time is drawing short and we still have much to discuss."

Resigned, Harry descended the stairs, lost in thought. He could feel Dumbledore's eyes on him. When they reached the bottom-most landing, he capitulated, his shoulders hunched. "She's right; I probably shouldn't try anything when I'm feeling like this and I'm not sure I could stand by and watch someone else work when I think I could do it faster. Hell, _I'd_ kick me out. But, as you said, I'm not at all happy about it. I want to be there. I _need_ to see him, to make sure he's all right."

Dumbledore put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I know you do. However, I'm certain, with your handfasting bonds, among other things, you'll be able to ascertain his condition and follow his progress quite well from anywhere you are. Perhaps more _intimately_, in fact, than you could if you were standing to the side out of the way."

Harry snorted sceptically. "You know I'll try, but we've never been able to open the bonds on a consistent basis when we're apart, and if he's unconscious..."

Albus gave him a mysterious smile, saying cryptically, "Perhaps, but circumstance has a way of changing things at times."

Harry looked at him sharply; there had a been a surprising note of conviction in Albus' voice. "How can you be so sure?" When he got the dismissive shrug that told Harry he'd get no more from him on the subject, he felt the rising tide of his ire. "Damn it, Albus! What the hell is happening? Why won't you answer me? Fuck! This is getting us nowhere."

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, they made their way across the Great Hall. His face shadowed with concern, Dumbledore replied calmly in the face of Harry's reemergent irritation, "Much has happened today, Harry, with more yet to come. I know you have many doubts and questions. Unfortunately, at this moment, I do not have the time to answer them all--Severus' and the others' well-being has to be my primary concern. However, once everything is settled, and it will be, I promise, I will come to see you _before_ the ceremony and answer as many of them as I am able. My only request echoes Poppy's in that you stay in your quarters until then." He nodded cordially to a group of students who greeted them as they passed.

Harry's own acknowledgement of them was distracted as he grumbled heatedly, "In other words, you'll answer only those you see fit to answer. Why did I think this time would be any different?"

Stopping them with a hand on Harry's arm, Dumbledore shook his head, saying gently but firmly, "No. As full an explanation as I am _able_ to give you." He sighed. "You are not the only one with frustrations. I cannot 'give' you all the answers if you don't ask the _right_ questions. Some of the answers you already have but fail to see, others you need to _discover_ on your own--before you're married. The rest will lead you to the questions you _should_ be asking."

Harry searched his face and saw nothing but honesty there. He thought on it as they made their way down the many stairs to the dungeons, Albus silent beside him. "But to what questions?" Harry mused to himself. "You've given me almost no answers, so in light of the bigger picture, how am I to know which ones are the ones _I_ am supposed to find versus those you choose to reveal to me? How can I sort through it all when I'm missing all the pieces?"

Albus glanced at Harry and handed him a crumpled piece of parchment folded neatly into quarters. "I'm sorry you'll have to wait to hear some of 'the bigger picture', but as a start, perhaps this will help. If you want a better understanding just how it came into my possession, I suggest you talk to Horatio and lavish him with much attention; he brought it to me."

Harry said nothing, turning the paper over and over in his hands. Having reached the dungeons, he could feel Dumbledore itching to leave and decided to wait to open it until he got back to his quarters; he stuffed the foolscap into the pocket of his robes. "Horatio?"

"Hmmm. Yes. He travelled through the castle while you and Dobby were in Diagon Alley, I believe. Quite the hero, if I may say so, but Fawkes tells me Horatio explains it better than I."

Harry stared at Dumbledore. "You can talk to Fawkes?"

Albus chuckled. "Perhaps it would be better to say that at the oddest times Fawkes chooses to make his mind known to me. Usually, like today, I get scolded."

"I'm glad _someone_ does it," Harry muttered. He looked over at Dumbledore. "How do you do that? You're redirecting again."

They stopped at the entrance to Harry's quarters. Albus' smile reached his eyes, spreading across his whole face. "No, actually, Harry, _you_ were redirecting. I merely gave you the chance to do so." He waved his hand over the door, opening it.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Does Severus know you can open our door despite the wards?"

"Of course he does. He just likes to--ignore it as best he can." Dumbledore leaned in, whispering. "You know how _private_ he can be sometimes." Straightening, he placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I must be off. Perhaps you should take this time, before I come back, to think on what has happened today and how it relates to events and circumstances in the past." He gave Harry's shoulder a squeeze and turned to leave back up the hallway.

Harry's hand on his arm stopped him. "I'm afraid, Albus. What if I don't find these 'answers' in time? Answers you say you can't give me. What then?"

Dumbledore put his hands on Harry's upper arms and, leaning in, gave him a kiss on the forehead much like the ones Harry always gave him when he healed him. With utter sincerity he said quietly, "You will find it if you seek it. Listen to your heart; it's what you do best. But know one thing--" he held up his finger and thumb, the distance between them miniscule "--you are this close and I have absolute faith in you. Severus _will_ meet you tonight, in the appointed place, near the appointed time to make vows with you."

Green eyes held the tired gaze of blue ones. "You _promise_, Albus?" he asked, the simple question holding so many unspoken levels of meaning.

The softening of Albus' face plainly showed he understood all the things Harry didn't voice as he replied with quiet certainty, "Yes, Harry, I _promise_." And with a kiss to his cheek, he removed his hands from Harry's arms, turning again to leave. Stopping, Harry heard him murmur, "Oh, yes, mustn't forget _that_." He just as quickly faced Harry again, contrite. "My apologies." Digging in the pockets of his robe and, with a raised brow, he pulled out Harry's wand and handed it to him. "I believe you dropped this?"

Harry's fist closed around it. "Thanks," he said, non-plussed.

"You're most welcome, my boy," Albus said, turning to leave before Harry could reply.

Holding back a sharp retort to the headmaster's retreating back, Harry closed his eyes only for a moment and when he opened them, Albus was gone.

Shaking his head that he had once again been deflected from his purpose, Harry stared at the empty space in front of him, muttering, "Only thing missing was the cup of tea."

Harry went inside and pulled the door closed behind him. As was his habit when he was upset, he climbed into one of the deep window seats in the sitting room, his back resting against the wall, legs stretched out before him on the crimson cushions. Staring unseeing at the setting sun out of the closed window, a crinkling in his pocket reminded him of the parchment Dumbledore had given him. He pulled it out, for some reason reluctant to open it. Glancing over at Horatio, who was sleeping, coiled on the hearth, Harry unfolded what turned out to be a note from Severus and began to read.

* * *

TBC


	21. Part II : Like Dogs and Cats

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Twenty One : Like Dogs and Cats**

**25 October 2003** (continued)

**4:10 pm**

Poppy heard them coming before she saw them. Moody was bellowing at McGonagall to mind her own business, while Minerva's precise tones, although quieter, were no less piercing as she demanded to know 'What the hell is going on?' and 'Stop that this instant, Mr. Lupin!' In counterpoint, like a background chorus, were sharp staccato yips overlaid with the continuous low growling yowls running up and down the scale that a cat makes when it is in pain or grossly unhappy. The door burst open at the same time Poppy's back-to-back "_Silencio's_" struck the first two entering. For just a few seconds she savoured the sight of both Moody and McGonagall striding towards her with silently flapping mouths, the chorus still singing strong.

When she had their full attention, she removed the spell silencing them. "I assume you all know how to _stay_ quiet," she said wryly. McGonagall raised a brow at her grin. The Deputy Headmistress was dishevelled from her walk, the puppy wriggling in her arms, happily chewing on a thick hank of hair he'd pulled out of her bun. Trying not to laugh out loud, Poppy got down to business. "Alastor, give me the cat and help Kingsley here."

Moody glared at her but, careful not to jostle his burden, moved quickly into place, supporting Kingsley with his back. "Snape took a blade to the left shoulder--didn't Transfigure into this form, but it's still there. Avery always did favour the throwing knives with the gut hooks." Seeing that she understood, he gently held out the weak but howling black cat to Poppy.

Using a combination of levitation and cushioning spells so as not to touch him, she slowly moved Severus to one of two nearby beds set close enough together for her to easily move between them. Preoccupied with Severus, Poppy said distractedly, "Minerva, if you'll set Remus on the other bed, please." A house-elf helped Poppy by floating the noisy, dishevelled cat to the mattress with nary a bump. She immediately placed a warming spell followed by a holding spell to keep him immobile on his right side. "Well done, Farly." The house-elf smiled shyly. "I'll send Professor McGonagall over here to help you watch him in a minute."

She turned to the other bed to find Remus rolling playfully on the white sheets, his short tail thumping the bed. "Well, at least _someone_ looks happy to be here," she said, scratching behind his ears. He bumped her hand with his cold, wet nose and licked her fingers. Chuckling, she looked up to say, "Minerva, I need you to Transfigure these two back, Remus first." Pointing behind her to the now mewling cat on the other bed, she said, "Don't change Severus yet; he'll be better off in his present form. Once we're done here, could you sit with him and make sure he stays quiet?"

Receiving Minerva's wordless nod of assent, Poppy turned next to Moody. "Alastor, you get Kingsley over to the bed by the window; I'll get to him as soon as I'm able."

Grumbling, albeit quietly, Moody moved Shacklebolt to the bed and helped him lay down. Another house-elf appeared and with a quiet 'pop' divested the tall, dark Auror of his robes and into an infirmary gown. She covered her mouth and giggled; Shacklebolt and Moody both groaned and then started chuckling when they saw the flying Snitch design on the bright blue garment barely covering Kingsley's long lean frame. Embarrassed at the exposure from the short student gown, he tried tugging it lower when Moody commented dryly, "Nice pins, there."

With another giggle and snap of her fingers, the gown lengthened to cover Kingsley down to his knees. As Shacklebolt blew a sigh of relief, the house-elf asked in a quiet voice, "Is Mr. Moody needing medical attention, sir?"

"Is Mr. Moody going to have to wear one of those," Moody asked sarcastically, pointing at Shacklebolt's gown, "if he says 'yes'?"

"If Mr. Moody can walk, Mr. Moody does not need one of the infirmary gowns," she said firmly.

"Then yes, eventually Mr. Moody will need someone to look after him, but he thinks he needs a _Pepper-up_ more than anything else." Then he looked at Shacklebolt. "Or a good tot of Ogden's. Think we can get the auld sod to part with a bottle later?"

"If he does, now's the time to ask him," Shacklebolt said with a wince as he tried to get comfortable. "One yowl for yes, two for no. At least with all his caterwaul, it could be open to interpretation." Moody laughed, toning it down with the quelling glance Poppy threw him, but he made no move to go over to the other bed.

"Nah. Takes all the fun out of it. Would rather trick one out of the bastard than steal it from him," he said lightly, one eye fixed on Severus, the other on Remus.

Moody watched McGonagall easily Transfigure the werewolf back to his human form. Then, as requested, she sat on the edge of Severus' bed, her head bent studying him as she tentatively touched the short, knotted fur at his neck with a light hand. Given that he just followed her movements with his dark amber eyes and didn't hiss or try to bite her, she tried stroking his head with the tips of two fingers. Severus blinked sleepily and yawned, flashing a mouthful of sharp teeth. McGonagall raised her hand slightly, startled, but when he lifted his head to butt her hand with his nose, she chuckled in surprise, and ran her fingers through his fur. Eyes slitted with pleasure, his previous yowls were soon replaced with a deep, rumbling purr laced with small mewls Moody could hear all the way over to the other side of Shacklebolt's bed where he stood. He wondered briefly why Poppy had left Severus as a cat, when his question was answered by a pained groan from Remus.

"Whoever thought of transforming us--_OW!_--into animals was--_Damn it, that hurt!_--bloody brilliant," Remus gasped, trying to escape Poppy's gently probing hands. "Didn't--_Ahhhh!_--hurt this much--_Ah-ah-ah-ah!_--before--_No! Don't press it again!_--as a pup."

With Remus' clothing removed, a folded sheet over his groin for modesty, Moody could see just how much he'd been damaged. If this was just the remnants from his time from the Malfoys... He murmured to Shacklebolt, his normal eye looking down at him, "Remind me to let Remus know how truly impressed I am he got Snape as far as he did by himself."

Shacklebolt tore his eyes away from Remus' healing long enough to nod in agreement. "I think I got the better end of their wands," he remarked with a shudder.

Moody clapped him on the shoulder and turned his attention back to Poppy with Remus.

Satisfied that Remus bore only physical injuries, Poppy helped Remus down a mild pain potion and went to work. The ribs healed completely under her competent spells. The deep bruising Remus' spells hadn't been able to touch disappeared in a rainbow of rapidly-fading colours. Muscles and tendon tears mended themselves, their swelling deflating like air released from a balloon. With each passing minute, the groans and cries of lingering discomfort were replaced by sighs of relief as Poppy slowly knitted Remus back together. When done, she ruffled his hair, saying, "There now, right as rain, although I dare say you'll be a little stiff and sore once you start moving around. Mind yourself--don't do too much, now. Take it easy for the first hour or so until you get your legs back."

Before he could thank her, she turned to watch McGonagall with Snape. "How's he doing?" she asked.

"He seems to be calmer," Minerva said, her hand stopping a moment. With a low growl, the cat imperiously butted her hand with his nose and rubbed his face against the side of her hand. With a low laugh, she started petting him again and the purr resumed.

Poppy chuckled. "Seems almost perverse how fine a cat our crotchety Potions master makes."

Minerva smiled, bemused. "Does make you wonder, doesn't it?" Her words were rewarded by another long growl, but the purring never stopped.

"Well, as long as he's comfortable, I'll take care of these other two first. No sense having them hanging about when they could be resting in their rooms," she said, moving over to join Moody and Shacklebolt on the other side of the space.

A quick examination and two spells were all it took to render a constantly complaining Moody as whole as he ever was. Shacklebolt took a little longer; one could almost see his dark skin paling when she cast the spells to remove the lingering effects of three _Cruciati_ on the man. And all the while she worked on them both, they smiled indulgently whenever she made those soft clicking noises of disapproval they all remembered well from their boyhoods--and later as men--whenever she repaired them after various mishaps.

She was healing the last of the damaged skin on Shacklebolt's chest, when Dumbledore arrived in the infirmary. He stood to the side for a moment, sizing up the situation before approaching them with the comment, "Poppy, you sound just like a mother hen with all of your clucking."

The four men chuckled when she looked askance at him. He looked between the three men, saying, "Congratulations, gentlemen. I am very glad to see you back here safe and whole. As I have been told it is more important you rest now than it is for me to satisfy my insatiable curiosity," he slid a glance over to Poppy, "I will make arrangements to debrief you tomorrow morning as tonight promises to be rather full."

Moody was about to object when Poppy smoothly interrupted him. "To bed, all three of you. You have a choice. You can all either don the latest infirmary fashion," she pointed at Shacklebolt's childish gown, "and stay here in the 'chicken coop', or you can all go to your respective rooms and rest before tonight's excitement." Arms folded, she waited.

Remus' "Ah, I think I hear my pillow calling me," was followed by Moody's gruff "Are the guest chambers in the same place?" Shacklebolt just smiled broadly and pulled at the gown, reaching for his clothes on the press next to the bed.

Summoning a house-elf, Poppy instructed her to show their 'guests' to their rooms and to make sure 'Mr. Lupin' made it to his apartments. With a curtsey, they elf bade them to proceed her, and within moments they were all on their way.

Poppy sat a moment in a chair near Minerva, who looked up from her slow ministrations to Snape's cat-napping form, a soft look on her face at odds with the sharp planes and angles of her bone structure.

To Poppy she said, "I hope you approve, but when he finally fell asleep on his own, I helped him stay there. I must say he took me by surprise--looks foul, feels fair, but is surprisingly gentle for all he's hurting. I'm beginning to suspect this form fits Severus quite well."

"Aye, the sleep will do him good--and make it easier for me to work on him."

Minerva nodded. "Speaking of work, do you need me for anything else?"

Poppy considered her question. "Only to Transfigure Severus back to his normal form and help me remove the knife. Unless, that is, you wanted to stay afterwards?"

McGonagall glanced at the headmaster standing behind Poppy, quietly shaking his head. "No, I think once we're through here, I will just pop down to the kitchens and see how the house-elves are faring with the food for tonight and make sure the other arrangements are completed."

"Thank you, Minerva. I _had_ planned on doing that myself..." her voice trailed off as she looked at the slumbering cat sprawled on the bed.

"Right," she said, standing. With a wave of her wand, the cat quickly morphed back into Severus. She gasped when she saw in full his battered condition, her eyes widening in shock when she saw the knife embedded in his shoulder. At her side, Poppy spelled his upper clothes off and leaned over, impersonally examining the wound. "There's been little bleeding and judging from the minimal bruising, the men did a good job keeping it from moving around." She turned to McGonagall. "Can you Transfigure it into something long and thin I can pull out easily?"

Brow furrowed in thought, Minerva nodded absently. With a downward sweep of her wand and a firm spell, she changed the jagged knife into a knitting needle. As Poppy removed it, the remaining cut bled freely. From the other side of the bed, Farly quickly placed a compress on the gaping hole until Poppy spoke the words to close it off. When the house-elf removed the bandage, there was no scar to show where the knife had been.

McGonagall Transfigured the knitting needle back into its original form, staring in horror at the wicked blade. She next studied the eyes carved on Severus' chest and, turning, fixed Dumbledore with a stern gaze. "You have your work cut out for you, Albus. You will, at least, do me the courtesy of 'filling me in' tomorrow after you have spoken to your 'adventurers'?" she asked pointedly.

Dumbledore gave her a little bow, saying smoothly, "Of course, Minerva. Say, tomorrow afternoon over tea?"

She sniffed. "That will be acceptable, I suppose. Until later." With one final inscrutable glance at the Potions master, she turned and swept out of the room.

Poppy sighed with relief and cocked her head at her husband. "You _are_ staying, yes?"

"Since I need to see the extent of his injuries in order to determine the best way to break the curse Remus says he has, yes, I will be here."

Poppy spelled the remainder of the clothes off of Severus and they both stared in dismay at the extent of the devastation Avery had wrought. Moving the hair out of Severus' face, Dumbledore murmured, "Oh, my dear boy. I had no idea it would be this bad. Forgive me, but it _was_ necessary. For both your sakes." Poppy looked at him quizzically, but said nothing. She went to work, Dumbledore beside her, his eyes closed as he concentrated on the magic he was feeling. Midway, his eyes resigned behind his spectacles, he whispered, "_Effervo_," and stood back to let her finish. Knowing now what needed to be done, the softly spoken summons, _Effervo_, while regrettable, was necessary.

Twenty minutes later, she straightened, arching her back in a joint-popping stretch. Sitting down in the hard chair she'd vacated earlier, she said forlornly, "There's not much more I can do, Albus. All his physical injuries are gone except those damned eyes. They're loaded with Dark Magic and far beyond my ability to heal."

Albus rummaged in his pocket and handed her three bottles. "I understand; there is only so much one can do with conventional magic. I was afraid this might happen, so I have come prepared."

Poppy read the label of one, her eyes growing huge. "Severus' _Infensus Curatio Potion_?" Looking almost sick, she said in a low voice, "Albus, this takes hours to make. You've not had the time--oh no, please don't tell me--you _knew_?"

Equally quiet, he replied gently, "No, my love, I merely guessed, given the circumstances after I 'spoke' to Severus' snake. I made it this morning, after I sent Moody and Shacklebolt off to Malfoy Manor, but before I took Horatio back to their rooms."

Her eyes frightened yet angry, she choked out, "The Orrery?" When he nodded, she barely suppressed her cry of dismay. "Albus Dumbledore! You promised me you wouldn't put yourself in such danger again unless it was an emer--" At the significant tilt of his head and glance at her over his spectacles, she heaved a sigh. "All right, I concede. This counts as an emergency." Her eyes searched his face. "Are you all right?"

"Tired, but I'm fine and nary a twitch while I worked. I suppose one could say the Orrery stops more than time," he said with a chuckle. "He'll need a dose before I can attempt breaking the curse. I _am_ sorry I can't stay long, but I did promise Harry I would speak to him before the rites tonight and I still have to prepare the Room of Requirement." When she glared at him, he smiled. "No rest for the wicked, as they say, and if you'll recall, what I need to do there is best left till last."

"True--but you be careful. I still don't like it, but when has _that_ ever been a consideration when you've wanted to do something." He cleared his throat meaningfully, but wisely said nothing. Clicking her tongue, she said, "Here, help me get him up." Dumbledore slipped his arm underneath Severus and, with the aid of Poppy's wand, got him upright. Holding their friend fast, Poppy started pouring the potion down his throat, her wand making him swallow.

"How many times have we done exactly this same thing?" Albus asked her, a smile in his voice.

Distractedly she replied, "At least a few hundred, I'm thinking, given how we had to keep his little 'holidays' here secret all those years he worked for the Order. Did he and Harry really quit?"

He nodded absentmindedly to her question. "Seems like yesterday," he mused, thinking of those days when Severus was a frequent visitor to the infirmary.

She gave a low laugh, knowing exactly what he meant. "As old as we are, it _was_ yesterday."

Chuckling softly, he said lovingly, "Yes, I suppose it was. Almost like when I first met a lovely young Medi-witch fresh from her training. I always enjoyed working in tandem with you even if I hadn't a clue what I was doing."

Finished with the potion, she set down the bottle and spared him a droll glance. "Pish. You just liked me ordering you around."

Dumbledore gently laid Severus back on the bed. "Possibly, but I'll never tell," he replied dryly, straightening and kissing her cheek. "Now, let me look at our boy."

Poppy watched him carefully, amazed, as always, at the precision of his magic. She could feel it wrap around Severus like a cocoon, expanding and contracting as Dumbledore's spells tried to find an open chink in the curse. Time crawled to a standstill as Albus toiled, first one spell then another, each one weakening but not breaking it.

She heard the door to the infirmary easing closed. Turning to see who had come in, she was surprised to see Remus walking towards her, obviously recently awakened. Trying not to disturb her mate, she quietly exclaimed, "Remus! You should be in bed."

Remus nodded his head at the headmaster. "Not with _him_ and his bees buzzing in my head, I can't."

Poppy clicked her tongue again in annoyance, but said nothing.

Dumbledore continued with Severus, oblivious to his surroundings. Poppy could hear him muttering under his breath, eyes closed, his hands splayed on Severus' chest in much the same manner as a healer. "Nasty little bugger. Here now, let's try this. No? All right. How about--ah, Harry--so good of you to join us. What if we try it here? Hmmm. You're almost there, my boy. I can feel it. No, don't give up, you almost had it. Follow the line. Come, Harry, I know you can do it. Just a little further, you can touch him. Closer--getting closer. Ah, there! You have him. Feel better now? Hold him close, keep him steady for me. Where did Avery hide it? Ah, the eyes have it. Clever bastard, I have you now. Ready, Harry?" Dumbledore's hands began to glow and Severus' chest rose from the bed as crackles of raw energy like so many tiny lightning bolts shot out from the wizard's hands, dissipating jaggedly down the Potions master's legs and arms, only to dance harmlessly across the bedcovers.

Poppy held her breath. This deep magic, unique to him, normally left him exhausted; combined with the happenings of the day and his lack of sleep the night before, she knew it could render him unconscious. She leaned over to Remus, whispering, "Get ready to help me steady him."

Remus unquestioningly shifted in anticipation, his weight centred on the balls of his feet. Albus lifted his hands from Severus and swayed dangerously; Remus was instantly at his side, a strong arm around his waist. Dumbledore sagged for a brief time into the support and then with a soft, "Thank you, my boy," straightened and stood on his own.

Poppy drew to his other side, her hand on his arm. Their attention was drawn to the waking man on the bed.

His face drawn in pain, Severus mumbled, "Where's the hippogriff?"

The seriousness in his voice belying the twinkle in his eye, Dumbledore replied, "I assure you, Severus, there is no hippogriff anywhere near here at the moment."

Severus opened his watering eyes, blinking in the light. "Albus! What are you doing here? Don't tell me Lucius captured you, too."

"No, Severus. You're safe at Hogwarts."

Snape sat bolt upright, crying out, "Harry? Aghh!" and immediately fell back down, his hands holding his head like a vise.

"Harry's fine, Severus."

Severus closed his eyes, his face a study in concentration. After a few moments, his eyes flew open, blazing in rage. "You lie. Why are you lying to me, Albus?"

Albus stated gently, "I'm not lying, Severus."

Remus chimed in, trying to calm and convince the furious Potions master. "No, really, Severus. Harry is all right."

Turning his burning gaze on him, Severus asked scathingly, "Are you covering for him now, Remus? Why would you do this to me? Harry's dead. He _must_ be dead; I can't _feel_ him. I'd know. I'd _see_ him."

Shaking his head sadly, Albus said softly, "Now, Severus, you know how reliable your ability to find him like that is--"

"Oh Albus, really," Poppy said with a touch of asperity. She pulled a sheet over her patient, saying soothingly, "Severus, I have seen Harry with my own two eyes, touched him, not more than an hour ago. He is well and waiting for you in your quarters.

More composed, Severus studied her for a moment, then shook his head. "I can't read you, you know." He pointed to Dumbledore. "_He_ has too many wards around you. If Harry's alive, then bring him here. I want to see him. I _need_ to see him."

Distressed, Albus said, "Severus, I'm so sorry. That's not possible at this time. There are reasons Harry had to stay away from the infirmary..."

Triumphantly, Snape crowed, "Ha! See, I _knew_ you were lying. Wild nundu couldn't keep him away if Harry knew I was here. He can't come here because he _can't_ come here. He's dead." He rolled over, his back to them. They heard something suspiciously like a sob. "My Harry's gone. You broke your promise to me to keep him safe and now he's gone. I _knew_ I shouldn't have trusted you, _knew_ I shouldn't have left on that damned mission. If I'd stayed here he'd still be--"

His words were interrupted by a softly spoken "_Sopophorus_". His last "--alive," was a long drawn out sigh as he sank back into merciful sleep.

Poppy stared at him a moment before her raised wand fell limply to her side. Defeated, she asked, "Albus, what do we do now? I can't cure this; he needs a healer. I know you have your reasons why you don't want them together before the ceremony, but you're going to _have_ to call in Harry--as healer _and_ betrothed."

Albus compassionately studied his mate's despondent face for a moment and, despite Remus' presence, put his hand out, caressing her cheek with gentle fingertips. "Don't fret, my love. It _will_ be all right." He glanced significantly over his spectacles at Remus, who nodded in understanding; he would say nothing of the exchange. "While it's true we need a healer, it _cannot_ be Harry. It's not safe for him to 'traverse' Severus with the _Sanos_ so close to the time of their final bonding, and if you'll use your head instead of that heart I'm so fond of, you'll know it, too." He kissed her cheek and put his arm around her shoulders comfortingly. "No, I will call in Quiesta. She is supposed to be here later this evening in any event and, as her specialty is the removal of the Dark Arts, she is the next logical choice after Harry."

Poppy leaned into him a moment, nodding. Looking up, she saw Remus and with a blush stepped away from Dumbledore. "I'll call her," Poppy said, all business now that she had a direction in which to move. "Do you want me to open the Floo directly to the infirmary fireplace?"

Dumbledore considered it. "That would certainly be the most expedient option, wouldn't it? Take one of the house-elves to guard the open connection. Not that I expect any trouble, but given what happened earlier..."

Poppy nodded. "I'll have her close it as soon as Quiesta's through." Bustling off to the nearby fireplace, she called Farly to her.

Turning to Remus, he said, "While we're waiting on Carlotta, would you run an errand for me?" At Remus' suspicious glance, Albus chuckled. "No, my dear boy--here in the castle. I need you to go to Harry."

"You want me to bring him up here?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, it is imperative he remain where he is for now. However, you must tell him that Severus has briefly regained consciousness and, despite appearances, will be ready to wed near the appointed time."

"Are you sure this is the right thing to say? I won't lie to him."

Dumbledore straightened; the time of concealment had _finally_ passed with Harry's 'presence' as he'd tried to weaken the curse. "It's no lie, Remus. The despair and disbelief Severus is feeling right now is because I could not break the curse Avery cast. Instead I have shunted it, moved it aside, if you will. And until all of the Dark Magic contained within is fully removed, it will not be completely broken. Quiesta should be able to mitigate almost all of it, and the physical damage, with just the _Sanos_. Enough so that Severus _will_ be able to wed. But Poppy is right, too; only Harry can completely heal him. Just not tonight. The curse Avery used is ancient, deep and complex. It _must_ wait until _after_ they're bound, for only a bond-mate can break it."

Thoughtful, Remus murmured, "So that's why they _needed_ Harry dead. I understand now." He raised his head and held Dumbledore's gaze. "But why is Harry being kept in his quarters? And why is a house-elf guarding the Floo? What's going on?"

Albus sighed and sat down in the chair next to Severus' bed. He indicated Remus should sit as well, which he did as Albus said, "Last night, shortly after you and Severus left, Maldy (who, by the by, is now dead) snuck into Hogwarts to kill Harry. It's a long story and I _will_ tell you all tomorrow, but suffice it to say I underestimated Lucius. I have since warded their rooms against another attempt."

"So you keep him there for his protection? Makes sense. Anything else?"

"When you return, you can honestly say you've personally seen Harry. I can almost guarantee Severus will try to read you, like he did Poppy when he wakes again; do you have a problem with this?"

"No, I've experienced his _Legilimency_ 'skills' before for Order business; it's not unbearable." He watched Dumbledore with a practiced eye. "Spit it out. What else do you want from Harry?"

Albus was interrupted when Poppy came back. "It's a good thing _I_ fire-called Quiesta, Albus--she was starkers." Dumbledore drew breath to speak with a wicked sparkle in his eyes, but she held up her hand to forestall him, a dangerous gleam in _her_ eyes. "Unless you want to be called every single one of your names, I suggest you do NOT pursue the comment you were about to utter."

"Women--take all the fun out of life, they do," Albus muttered, winking at Remus, who just grinned wolfishly. "Now where was I?"

"Hopefully at the last reason you want me to go see Harry," Remus supplied.

Poppy's smile faded and her attention snapped to Albus, who said, "Ah, yes. I need him to give you his wedding gift. Tell him it's to bring Severus 'back' and explain to him the curse; answer any questions he might have. He'll fight the request and demand to go with you, but when he does, give him a message from me."

"And that is?"

"'I promise.' Simply that, nothing more, nothing less. He should, at that point, release it, although he might still be upset. It's small and should fit easily in your pocket. Please, take great care with it; it's priceless and took the better part of the last two months to make. Its cost to Harry's person was dear. Do you have any questions?"

Remus shook his head. "No, I think I have it--convince, witness, explain, and 'fetch'. Oh, and do it quickly." With no further comment, and Albus' chuckle ringing in his ears, Remus left the infirmary.

Poppy waited until he was out of the room before asking, "Oh, Albus, Harry didn't?"

Dumbledore regarded her gravely. "Yes, my love, he did. The same as I gave you on _our_ wedding night. He wanted to know what was the most precious gift he could give Severus that he could make himself." He took her hand, the thumbs running circles along the backs. "Can you think of anything more so?"

Shaking her head, she said with some irony, "You seem to be flirting with danger more often than not lately."

Albus chuckled, kissing her fingers. "Oh, come now. I gave you mine and no harm ever came of it, now did it?" His smile faded to be replaced with a serious mein. "Do you think Severus will be any less of a worthy custodian than you were yourself?"

Reluctantly, she muttered, "No, I suppose not. It's just--"

He leaned in and kissed her full on the lips, lingering a few moments. Pulling back, his eyes told her how much he loved her. "Yes, Poppy," he murmured, "it is possible. They love each other _that_ much."

A sigh of acceptance was his only reply.

* * *

TBC


	22. Part II : Outside Looking In Looking Out

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Twenty Two : Outside Looking In Looking Out**

**25 October 2003** (continued)

**4:35 pm**

_...certainly not on a chilly night like this; I'd rather be warm in bed with you..._ "And I slept. Damn it--I slept!" _...I love you...Severus..._ "I love you, too," Harry whispered, his voice choking. "Severus!"

Harry raised moist eyes from the note held lax in his hands and stared out the window. In between every word, sandwiched in each line of Severus' note, were paragraphs of information if one knew what to look for. Air, he needed air, there wasn't enough to breathe past the growing lump in his chest. Fumbling with the catch, he opened the casement next to his elbow with relief, inhaling deeply the bitter draft as it gusted through. Unnoticed, an errant tendril of cold, like a feckless hand, picked up the note lying loosely in his lap and whisked it out into the day's end. Indifferent to its fate, he watched the parchment disappear into the distance, bobbing on the streams of air that caught it, whipping it about in dizzy movements as it sailed away from him. It didn't matter. The words were burned into his soul.

The need to see Severus, to feel him, be with him, pulled at Harry relentlessly, threatening to override the promise he'd made to Dumbledore. He continued to follow the progress of the escaping note, fighting a fleeting wish to be travelling with it, wildly fluttering in the air instead of imprisoned in the soft confines of their quarters. Perhaps then, instead of this dull waiting, he would at least feel alive enough to dispel the cold dread sitting solid in the center of his chest.

However, he sternly reminded himself, Albus had given him a shred of hope, had hinted it didn't need to be this way. _'Damn the man! What was it he'd said? I'd be able to follow Severus' progress better here than there?'_ Relaxing his head against the stone behind him, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on finding Severus through their bonds. He wished he could adequately describe this 'opening' of his inner senses, almost like a healing, which left him vulnerable every time he leapt out into the dark, as it were, seeking the other half of what used to be just himself. The few times they'd discussed it, he'd been relieved to discover that Severus, even with his eloquence, couldn't verbally explain it either--it was just _understood_.

While a handfasting bond was complicated enough, their wards and _Sanos_ bonds added even more layers of complexity making each attempt wildly different. Because they'd never been able to control it at will, Harry felt only marginal surprise when he attempted to open the handfasting bond and instead found himself falling into the wards. At first he saw nothing but a grey glimmer devoid of any sensation and, repelled by the capriciousness of it all, almost gave it up. But he tried it again, putting a more purposeful effort behind it. Slowly, then with gathering speed, as it had been when he used the glyph earlier, he felt like he was rushing through the tunnel until he again arrived in the white nothingness.

Cheered by this bit of headway, he searched and by small degrees could faintly feel his lover, awake, but--was it really Severus? The impression was different somehow, although he couldn't quite fathom what had changed. It was almost as if Severus were no longer himself, like he wore another skin. That couldn't be right. He tried sending a picture to him and almost immediately received a quizzical feeling in return as though Severus didn't know what he was seeing. He tried another and without warning, the connection broke abruptly. With a small cry of frustration, he gave it up for the moment.

He sat deep in thought for several minutes. _'Perhaps Severus has not yet arrived. Dumbledore had said they were bringing him when we came here. Maybe I was sensing him in transport. What had Albus said? He was sending McGonagall to meet them. Why?'_ A small snippet of memory tugged at him--animals. Slowly, a fragment of his studies of emergency medicine came back--transporting injured humans was easier and safer if one Transfigured them into smaller animals, something he'd never used nor done nor seen but, given the way animals handled pain, made sense. He smiled for the first time in several hours, wondering into what kind of animal McGonagall had changed Severus. Whatever it was, it had not been fully sentient if the previous touch had been any indication.

Heartened with the thought, he tried a different tack, needing to first see where Severus was. With a quietly spoken, "_Repario Aperio Severus_," he almost immediately recognised the infirmary. Then Poppy came into view. Wait a minute--this was new--he could see people. Avidly searching, he finally saw Severus lying on a bed beyond the Medi-witch working over him. Judging from her wand work, she was almost finished. Damn, he wished he could hear them, but was so grateful he could finally _see_ his lover, he could live without it. His eyes never leaving his beloved's face, Harry studied what he could; for the moment, it was enough.

Distracted by motion, he noticed Poppy sit down to the side while she and Albus talked. Finally able to see him fully, Harry studied Severus with some concern--surely he should be conscious by now; however, from the steady rise and fall of his chest, he assumed Poppy had kept Severus asleep. Probably not a bad idea.

He strained, discovering (quite by accident in his impatience to be 'there') he could move closer and change the perspective. Hovering on the side of the bed away from where Poppy had stood, his eyes drank their fill. Severus was nude, a bit paler than normal, but overall, he looked whole, although Harry could see the rapidly fading remnants of recent scarring. He swallowed bile when he realised Severus had been scourged; Dumbledore had some heavy explaining to do. And those 'eyes'--one on each side of their talisman--he winced in trepidation at their malevolence. There was a crispness to them indicating Poppy had tried to heal them with little success.

Dumbledore was handing something to Poppy and Harry's heart stood still when he recognised the distinctive green bottles she took from him--the _Infensus Curatio Potion_, Severus' own invention for use against the Dark Arts, the very same potion he'd made with Albus for Severus the summer before his sixth year and the one Severus had given him when Draco had tried to poison him. He had to wonder why Albus had made it and concluded that although Severus didn't exhibit any outward symptoms, there had to be a curse; there was no other explanation. _'Silent but deadly,'_ he thought with concern.

He wondered why Poppy looked so upset, though she calmed down soon enough. If he'd had a cursed patient and someone handed him a fresh batch of the _Infensus Curatio Potion_ to 'soften them up', he'd be ecstatic--it took so damned long--a new thought struck him as he watched Poppy and Dumbledore give Severus the medicine. The potion took hours to brew and had a short shelf life. He shied away from the speculation that Dumbledore had _known_ enough about what was going to happen that he'd had the time to make the potion _before_ he'd sent Remus and Severus off, but Harry could not deny it was a possibility. Not when Poppy had looked so angry with him.

Albus began to work on Severus; this confirmed, in Harry's mind, the presence of a curse. It had to be the eyes. Dumbledore was obviously trying to break it; Harry had worked with Bill Weasley enough to know the hand gestures and the words he could see forming on Dumbledore lips. Oddly enough, as Albus went deeper, Harry began to _feel_ Severus again and, taking advantage of this new sensation, he tried once again to connect without breaking his view. The closer he got to the inside of Severus, the more he lost the sight of his outside; the white nothingness was coming between them and he eased off, relieved when Severus came back into view.

_'No, don't give up, you almost had it,'_ a familiar voice whispered in his head. _'You're almost there, my boy. I can feel it.'_

_'Wonderful. Now I dreaming the old bugger's in my head,'_ Harry thought with dark amusement. _'But what the hell? I have little to nothing now, what's there to lose?'_

Slowly, ever so slowly he eased in, allowing the whiteness to engulf him; he was fairly certain he could retreat if this didn't work. But it was empty, devoid of any _presence_ and, once again, as he was about to pull out, he could swear he heard Albus exhorting him to go on. _'Follow the line. Come, Harry, I know you can do it.'_ He searched. A line? What line? And then he almost tripped over it, a beacon of light, thin as a hair. He did as he'd been urged, his careful movements stirring the whiteness into swirling eddies of fog.

It might all be his imagination, but the gentle words floating in his head brought their own comfort and a spot of courage he'd not known he was lacking. _'Just a little further, you can touch him. Closer--getting closer.'_ He drew near a small spark dancing just ahead of him and acting on instinct, he allowed the eager little glimmer to pass _inside_ him. With a rush of warmth, he could sense Severus again even if he could not _see_ him. It felt so good just to connect to him, a lightness of being filling him as he wrapped himself protectively around the part of his lover he now carried within him.

With a sudden, gut-wrenching twist, Harry was back 'outside' of Severus, looking at him lying still on the bed, Dumbledore's hands splayed on his chest. Odd that. He was separate physically, if one could call it that, able to see Severus' person from the outside and what was _inside_ as well, yet Severus' presence was also still _inside_ him. The dual vision and feelings were disorienting. Through Severus' skin he could now 'see' the dark threat that was the curse, like a core of rot in an overripe piece of fruit, yet it also surrounded them like a black miasma of evil.

Dumbledore had paused; could the old man be waiting for him? _'Ah, there! You have him. Feel better now?'_ Cheeky bastard--even in his imaginings, Dumbledore plagued him.

Revelling in the renewed touch of his lover, it took several moments for Harry to realise Dumbledore had resumed, his magic weaving its way around, trying to breach the black core of the curse. And Dumbledore was losing. Why? Harry cautiously felt around and found the answer. The power of the Talisman, in trying to protect Severus from the curse, was waning.

Could he connect through it, could he re-energise it the same way he had earlier this afternoon without having to actually touch the glyph in the library? He could only try. Unbuttoning his shirt and placing his fingers flat on his own Mark, he summoned the _feelings_ he'd had when he'd done it before, concentrating on pouring his magic, in small bits, into the Talisman. Dumbledore made way for him. _'So he knows I'm here and I'm not hearing things. Fine. You and I are going to talk, old man!'_ A dim mental chuckle was all the reply he got.

Like a dry sponge plunged into water, the Talisman greedily sucked up the magic he gave it, and with each passing moment, the spark he harboured that was Severus' presence within him grew larger, stronger, stretching his protection with the same pleasant ache he usually associated with rising passion, the connection between them almost physical.

The transfer eventually complete, he could feel the black 'core' weakening around him under the onslaught of both Dumbledore's resumed spells and the renewed protection afforded by their ward, _Defendo Maritas_. As the Talisman expended power, Harry gave it more. _'Hold him close, keep him steady for me,'_ he heard mumbled in his mind.

With an inner cry of triumph, Dumbledore found it--found a chink in the curse's formidable armour. _'Ready, Harry?'_ He continued to pour his magic into Severus' defenses, hoping Albus could break the curse, when a sudden surge of magic from the old wizard almost pushed him out. Unconsciously sitting forward in desperate concentration, he held on, determined not to let go--he would _not_ lose Severus now.

He saw Albus stagger as the spell ended abruptly; Remus jumped over to steady him. Remus? When did he get there? He dismissed the question when, in dismay, he saw that while the now off-centre core was much smaller than it had been, a mere speck compared to its former size, it was still there. Harry held his breath, prepared to bolster Severus again should he need it, but while the core was not dormant, it seemed almost tired. Harry certainly couldn't feel it with the same intensity as before.

Then he noticed nothing else but Severus awakening. Like warm sunshine after a cold rain, he could _feel_ him in his skin and in his heart and for a few brief moments basked in the conscious aura that was _his_ Severus. It didn't matter that Severus was confused and groggy, he was alive and awake. But there was a lingering bitter feel of despair surrounding them that concerned him. As the feeling grew, he knew it came from the core and hazarded a quick foray into the area. No, it had not grown; it was just that powerful, and now had become fully active with Severus conscious. Harry didn't know what he could do to mitigate it, but he was determined to stay there until he couldn't any more.

Suddenly Harry could feel Severus wrap around him in a mental embrace and he 'hugged' him back. Gods, it was good! Severus sat up; Harry was sure his lover was calling to him and without thinking, he tried to answer back. He saw sharp pain cross Severus' face and then he saw no more--the connection was broken! With a sharp cry he tried to reestablish it with no success. Something blocked him again. He sat back in defeat. Had he caused that surge of pain he'd briefly glimpsed before he was shut out?

With a cry of bitter anger, Harry hit his thigh with a closed fist. Damn it! He should be there! But unlike Albus, he would not go back on his word, perceived or otherwise. He was stuck here and as rational thought and the unpalatable truth reasserted itself, he knew his initial outburst was useless; had he been in the infirmary instead of here, he would never have made the effort to connect to Severus the way he had. Instinctively he knew there was something he was missing, something important, but all other thought was pushed to the wayside in his burning need to find his lover again.

And he wouldn't be able to do it in his present frame of mind. Drawing a deep cleansing breath he began to recite, "Calm as the soundless morn... Calm as the noon of day... Calm as the twilight's verge... Calm as the night stars' sleep... Calm as the promised dawn..." Repeating the familiar litany, Harry tried to fall into the quiet place within himself to quell the rising panic that he'd inadvertently caused Severus harm. Struggling against the vision of the pain on his lover's face, he gradually gained control of his unruly thoughts, the whirl slowing until all remaining was a cool center empty of any emotion.

Relieved at his success, he tried once again to find Severus both mentally and visually. Within seconds of uttering the spell, and with little effort, he was once again in the infirmary next to Severus. But where before he'd held a spark of his lover within him, he was now alone, separate; Severus was unconscious and out of his reach. He could feel the Talisman burning strong; it didn't take much for him to deduce that the core would more than likely remain dormant until the next time Severus woke.

Dumbledore was speaking quite seriously to Remus, who looked very tired and worn around the edges. Perhaps Dumbledore was debriefing him as was normal after a mission or maybe he was trying to get more particulars on the type of curse used. Their conversation certainly seemed deep enough for it. Harry made a mental note to thank Remus for keeping Severus alive and getting him home. In fact, he needed to thank all three of them, but Remus had been with Severus throughout the entire ordeal, or at least he assumed he had.

With what he'd seen, he knew Severus would need a healer to try to destroy the last bit of the Dark magic remaining with the _Sanos_; unless, of course, they could get someone like Bill out to break it. No, when he thought on it, there was not enough time to do so.

Poppy returned, and when Remus and the Headmaster grinned, he again found himself wishing he could hear what was being said; he desperately needed a laugh, too. Not too long afterward, Remus departed, leaving Poppy and the headmaster alone. Harry wondered where he was going and hoped it was to rest a while--he looked rather done in.

When the couple's attitude became more 'married', Harry (with an irrational surge of jealousy for their freedom to do so) manoeuvred himself away to 'stand' by Severus, his back to them, wishing he could touch the man so close to him. However, if Dumbledore was right (and Harry was beginning to suspect he might be), he would be doing that soon enough.

* * *

**5:00 pm**

Remus made his way to the dungeons as swiftly as his unsteady legs would allow him and, once again, grudgingly wondered why Dumbledore had sent him and not Moody to talk to Harry and 'fetch' whatever this precious gift was. Damn, he still hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to be back in his warm bed where he'd previously been hovering on the edge of desperate sleep when the little bees of Albus' infernal summoning had gone off in his head. Groaning, he'd left the warm downiness of his slumber to stagger over to the infirmary, grumbling the whole way about the unfairness of it all.

He'd made himself calm down when he'd seen Dumbledore at Severus' side, obviously working, and, easing the door closed, he shouldn't have been surprised when Poppy heard him, uttering the obvious 'you should be in bed'. With the clicking of her tongue, she'd made transparent his politic rejoinder and for a moment he'd forgot his ire at the summons and started paying attention to what was going on right in front of him.

It hadn't 'looked' good, but who was he to judge? Severus at least appeared better, more normal than he had before, but there was that pinched quality about Poppy's mouth that told him things were not as simple as they seemed. Then he'd had his talk with the headmaster, and well, here he was, trying not to fall down the dungeon stairs. Although, he thought with a spark of his normal humour, if one should happen to break both of their legs, doing so within calling distance of a healer was probably one of the better places to do it.

Unscathed, he eventually made it to the recessed door of Harry's and Severus' chambers, a place he'd rarely entered in all the years he'd lived here. Professors, Snape especially, tended to be a little private that way; he'd didn't even know where Flitwick's was. Remonstrating himself for his unruly thoughts, he made himself patiently wait for the wards to chime his presence.

As he took in the deep shadows under Harry's eyes and his slumped posture when he opened the door, Remus felt ashamed of himself. "I thought you went to bed. You should be resting," Harry said with surprise standing in the doorway.

Remus chuckled grimly, more than a little startled himself. "Not until after the wedding, I am thinking, Albus sent me--"

With some asperity, Harry exclaimed, "About bloody time! Let me get my things."

Remus stopped him mid-turn away from the door with a hand on his arm when he said, "No, Harry. I'm sorry I wasn't plainer. I have come at Albus' request to reassure you Severus is all right, and to bring Albus something he wants from you."

Harry started to protest and then his shoulders sagged in defeat. "I'm not to leave here then?"

"No, your presence here is for your own protection." At Harry's incredulous expression, Remus explained uncomfortably, "Evidently Maldy, a house elf belonging to Malfoy, broke into Hogwarts last night after Severus and I left. Albus is taking no chances and has warded your quarters against any further attempts."

"I know about Maldy. Maldy is dead," Harry said tightly. "Dobby killed him."

Remus brows went up, but he said nothing except an awkward, "May I come in?" When Harry stepped back, Remus went on, "Come, Harry, let's sit. We've much to talk about."

With an absentminded nod, Harry led him into the sitting room, listlessly taking Severus' chair while indicating Remus should take his own. Harry squirmed for a few moments as if it felt strange to be sitting there, but breathing deeply a few times, he settled somewhat; Remus wondered if Severus' scent was as imprinted in the chair as much as his buttocks obviously were in the seat cushion.

"I've sort of been watching," Harry began, still shifting in the seat. "I know Severus is in the infirmary under some kind of curse that Albus was not totally successful in ridding him of and that he's unconscious right now." He hesitated. "What kind of curse did they use?"

Not bothering to hide his perplexity, Remus asked, "Don't you want to know what happened?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I know enough for the moment." And surprisingly he sounded like he did. "I know who you were after, that Severus went somewhat unwillingly even though he thought it a trap. I know you both got caught, where you were, was even in the room where you'd both been held, I think. Severus indicated Albus would try to evade me and will most likely be disappointed that I didn't hex the old goat several hours ago. When he arrived at Hogwarts, I saw the hideous eyes someone carved into him. But I also could see he's been fully healed of almost everything except this curse and, of course, the thing carrying it. Oh, and he has more faith in Albus than I do."

He looked away a moment and then coming to a decision, swung his head back and locked eyes with Remus. "You see, Severus is such a _private_ person--even with me. There is much in his previous life he has not chosen to reveal, and I to him for that matter--things buried so deep they're understood without the telling. And with what I saw this afternoon and what I already know, I suspect this will be one of those things as well, and if Severus wants to tell me, he will. If not--it's _understood_."

Remus nodded his own understanding, his respect and admiration rising for the two of them and their ability to work around what in most relationships would be insurmountable obstacles. "Very well. To your question. The curse was two-fold. Lucius started it with a _Draught of Despair_ when they brought word of your death to Severus." He stopped when Harry sat forward, a look of startled enlightenment on his face. With Harry's terse, "Go on," Remus continued, "Avery set the curse in the eyes he carved in Severus' chest--"

"Avery is a dead man--," Harry murmured.

"--and activated it when we dueled with him and Draco while we were escaping--"

"I should have killed _him_ when I had the chance," Harry muttered.

"--I'm told it's a _Confundus Desparo_ curse," Remus finished.

"All three of them are _mine_." Harry turned fey eyes to Remus. "They Are **Mine**," he repeated fiercely, and such was the deadly meaning behind his words, Remus felt a surge of elation as he'd just witnessed the three men's death warrants. Given what he'd been through at their hands, not only today but at other times in the past, he was hard-pressed to try and convince Harry not to do it or feel guilty about it, although he _knew_ he probably should.

Harry sat back lost in thought; Remus thought better of disturbing him even though he was aware of time passing all too quickly. Just as he was about to remind Harry of the other part of his 'errand', Harry said, "If I'm not to go to him, who is Albus bringing in to heal Severus?"

Remus smiled. "Quiesta. In fact, Poppy fire-called her and came back reporting she was starkers. It was a fair treat to see Poppy cut the headmaster down to little bitty man-sized chunks."

Harry chuckled rustily. "I wondered why you were grinning." At Remus startled nod, Harry said, "Quiesta is a good choice. Although I don't know why Albus wouldn't have me do it. I mean I can understand now why they kept me out at first," he looked at the fire, "or at least I think I do," he muttered, then in a louder voice, "but with everyone there, I would certainly be protected enough to heal Severus the rest of the way."

It was Remus turn to look uncomfortable. "Ah, Albus said that you could not heal him until after you were bonded with Severus."

"Why?" Harry asked obviously not expecting an answer.

Remus had a strange feeling of satisfaction at the look of total shock on Harry's face when he replied, "Albus did say that Quiesta would only be able to heal Severus enough to get him to the ceremony tonight; only _you_ would be able to completely heal him, but the curse Avery used was, how did he put it? Ah, yes, 'ancient, deep and complex' and only a bond-mate could break it."

"Well, that certainly explains some things," Harry mused quietly, staring at the fire. Still not looking at Remus, he said, "You said you came for something Albus wants from me. What is it now?"

Remus was not surprised at the bitterness he could hear in Harry's voice and now had a dim understanding why Albus had sent _him_. Moody would never catch the nuances of Harry's demeanor whereas he could understand Harry a little better having (along with Severus and Albus) practically dragged him into his adulthood. Although he knew Harry wouldn't see it as such now, Remus at least had a chance to convince Harry that perhaps Albus' motives were a little purer than anyone was currently assuming.

"Actually, two things, but the first one requires nothing on your part except your continued existence. We have a problem--because Albus could not completely break the curse and the despair it brings, Severus is not convinced you're alive." At Harry's in-drawn breath, he held up his hand to forestall his heated comment. "Yes, I'm quite sure the easiest way for us to convince him is to produce your physical person. I agree. However, for reasons I already stated and some others I assure you I don't know, you have to stay here until right before the ceremony. If I recall the schedule, Arthur will call to escort you to the waiting place, right?"

Harry nodded, but with an obvious effort, said nothing.

"So it is one of my tasks to 'witness' our discussion should Severus try to read me through _Legilimency_."

"Makes sense even if I hate it," Harry replied without heat. "So what's the other 'thing' the old bastard wants from me."

Reprovingly yet nervous, Remus said, "The _headmaster_ requests that you give me your wedding gift for Severus."

"No."

Remus shook his head. "He said that would probably be your reaction and asked me to tell you 'I need it to bring Severus back and kill his doubts'. He also adjured me to take great care with it because it's priceless."

"You have no idea," Harry murmured and then asked in a scathing tone, "Well, you have a problem if I decide not to give it to you, don't you?" He stopped abruptly, flushing. But whatever shame at his outburst he might be feeling did not stop the sarcasm in his voice as he asked, "Did he also tell you I would refuse a second time and that you were to pass on some special secret message sure to make me stop objecting and just give it to you?"

Remus couldn't help it, it was just too funny the way these two anticipated each other and with great effort, he hid the smile threatening to burst forth. He settled on a small chuckle as he said, "As a matter of fact, he did tell me to pass on another message to you should you prove intractable."

"What now?" While Harry spoke quietly, Remus could almost taste the restraint he was exerting. "What's his _special_ message?"

"'I promise.'"

Harry stared at him, tense, as if he would spring out of his chair and choke him. With a curse worthy of his missing mate, Harry stood and stomped (and Remus could think of no other way to express it) out of the sitting room deeper into the apartments. Off in the distance, he could hear Harry say something suspiciously like a password, and within a few minutes Harry came back in the room, subdued, a velvet pouch cradled in his hands.

Hesitating a long moment, Harry looked intently at the bag. Remus thought he heard him say, "I guess I have no choice but to trust him," but was unsure whether Harry meant himself or Dumbledore. Possibly both if what Albus had said was true and given the almost lost look in Harry's face as he continued to hold the pouch, saying quietly, "Albus knows how to use the gift. It should be enough to convince him, but if Severus is so far under this curse as you say he is and as I've had cause to observe, then he may need further proof that the gift is actually from me. If this is the case, tell him that the person who gave this to you wants to know what happens when you cross a squid with a cock."

Remus raised a brow. "And the answer is?"

He got no reply, but Harry held the pouch out to him with almost no hesitation. Remus gently took it out of his hand, securing it, and the small vial he could feel inside it, into an inner pocket of his robes. Harry turned away from him, but not before Remus caught a glimpse of the sparkle of unshed tears in his eyes. Feeling as protective of him as he had when Harry was much younger, he walked around and embraced him, letting Harry bury his face in his shoulder. Within moments, Harry was hugging him back, his hands clenched fiercely in the fabric of his robes. Muffled words eventually made their way up to his ears. "Take good care of it, Remus. Take good care of him for me again, will you?" Remus didn't reply, just held him tighter. After a few moments, Harry stood back, letting him go, the tears gone, absorbed by his robes. "Please, Remus," Harry whispered. "Please tell him I love him and I'll be there, waiting for him, at the appointed time. That I wanted to come to him."

Remus smoothed an errant hair out of Harry's face. "I will, Harry. I'll make sure he knows."

Harry nodded his thanks, then looked contrite. "I'm sorry, I never thanked you, did I? For keeping him alive and getting him out of there. I'm sorry you were hurt as well. You're all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." He sighed heavily. "Harry, someday if you change your mind, I'll tell you the whole story, but you should know now--all 'this' happened because of me--and my stupidity. Severus wouldn't have been hurt had I stopped a moment and thought things through. But I didn't, and he went after me to save me from myself. It's me who should be apologising to _you_."

Harry shook his head sadly. "You can believe that if you want, Remus, but the truth is Lucius Malfoy set us all up and Albus allowed it to happen. I don't know why yet, but I'm _going_ to find out; unfortunately, I suspect it ALL has to do with _me_." When Remus was about to protest, Harry said quickly, "Now go. Severus needs you more _and_ what you carry." With a movement of his hands on Remus' arms, Harry turned him about, escorting him to the door.

Remus took a long look at Harry standing resolute in the entry and left without a word, closing the door behind him. There was a finality to the sound of the latch catching and Remus desperately hoped that whatever it was Albus had planned worked. Halfway up the stairs from the dungeons, he thought, _'No, Alastor would have been a very bad choice.'_ And with a lighter heart, he continued on to the infirmary.

* * *

TBC


	23. Part II : Eau d'Harry

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Twenty Three : Eau de Harry**

**25 October 2003** (continued)

**5:00 pm**  
  
Magistra Carlotta Quiesta, Master Healer Specialist, _Sanos_ Professor at St. John's College, author of 219 papers spanning her 35 year career, two time recipient of the Order of Merlin (First and Second Class) for her work during both halves of the war, and poet laureate, was nervous. When the fire-call from Madam Pomfrey came in, she'd just emerged from a long leisurely bath, having forgot to seal her Floo against unwelcome callers. She supposed she should be grateful it was Poppy who'd called her and not that rogue of a headmaster, harmless though he was.

She blamed her lapse of routine security (not to mention modesty) on a last-minute rearrangement of her schedule, having received a mysterious Owl Post from Severus a few days before. Not seemingly urgent, his note _had_ piqued her curiosity (as she was sure it was meant to do) and so given the amount of time she suspected he would grant her _after_ the ceremony, and given her normally tight schedule, she thought it best to talk to the Potions master _before_ he got married. Besides, she _had_ thought it might also provide him with a timely 'distraction' from whatever nerves the normally stoic man could possibly suffer.

Almost two hours ahead of what would normally be expected when attending such an event, she'd just dropped her bathing sheet to cross the room when a disembodied female voice floated across her bedchamber.

"Carlotta, are you... OH! My! I _am_ sorry about this," Poppy had stammered without her usual grace.

Somewhat amused once she pulled her heart back from under her toes, Carlotta would be damned before she let on even the smallest hint of embarrassment over her blatant state of undress. Moving at a normal pace, she nonchalantly crossed in front of the fireplace to retrieve her dressing gown off the back of the chair at her dressing table. Slipping on the silky garment, she faced Poppy, pulling the ties closed. "Considering I expected you to be knee-deep in last minute preparations for tonight, I assume this is not a social call."

"I wish it was, Carlotta. We've an emergency and need your services urgently."

Quiesta tilted her head at the green fire bearing Poppy's head and shoulders. "And this is something beyond Mr. Potter's abilities?"

"No, he's perfectly capable of it, but--" she hesitated, obviously uncomfortable. Quiesta's interest was piqued. "Look, I'll fill you in on the particulars when you arrive. The patient is Professor Snape and the headmaster has expressed the _opinion_ you would, perhaps, be better suited for the task than Mr. Potter."

Quiesta raised a perfectly shaped brow. "Indeed. I can see where the headmaster might have some concerns. Let me dress and get my things together and I will be over straight away. Which Floo?"

Poppy sighed with relief. "Thank you, Carlotta. I know this is short notice, but I'm sure you understand the _need_ to finish before this evening. Use the infirmary Floo; we're holding it open for you."

With a nod she said, "Very well. I will be there as soon as I'm able."

Within seconds, the fire resuming its normal colour, Carlotta secured it and went about getting ready. As she donned her working robes she contemplated what little she knew. Severus Snape was injured and she was expected to heal him. Quickly. In time for the ceremony tonight. A most daunting task given how little information Poppy had been willing to give her over the notoriously unsecure Floo network.

Gathering the jewelry already laid out on her dresser, she scolded herself for the inappropriate but inevitable irritation she was feeling that it was now most unlikely she would find out what Snape had wanted to talk to her about until well after his return from his honeymoon; Carlotta did not deal well with delayed gratification at the best of times.

Preparing a small case on the bed, she shrank and packed her formal robes for later along with all the personal items she deemed necessary to make herself presentable. Knowing it would not help her or Snape if she arrived flustered and unable to focus properly, she automatically fell into the routine she used to prepare herself for work. As part of her discipline she examined the unusual panic for its source so she could remove it. Normally when she did this she would find it was nothing more than a basic fear of the unknown, something she could easily discard; after all she _was_ a Master, her skills secure. However, this time she found the time constraints combined with whom she was expected to heal at the root of her mixed feelings. Digging deeper, she realised the rest of her uneasiness was caused by a single question, one she could not answer, and therefore one she must ignore for now.

Why was Harry Potter not healing Severus Snape himself?

Well, she would never find out and never get done if she didn't get going. Holding her case securely, she threw some Floo powder into the fireplace, calling out, "Hogwarts' Infirmary," and entered the fireplace. She hated going by Floo, but since Apparation was out of the question from both her end and at her destination, and time was of the essence, she saw little choice in the matter. Dozens of grates later, she stepped out of the infirmary fireplace to be greeted by a house-elf, who promptly sealed the Floo behind her and, with a snap of her fingers, cleaned the residual soot off her clothes and skin.

"Magistra Quiesta will please follow Farly to Madam Pomfrey and Headmaster Dumbledore?" she asked politely.

"After you, Farly," Quiesta said, falling behind the infirmary's house-elf. She looked around as they made their way from the back, noticing the layout had not changed much since the end of the war except there were far fewer beds. Carlotta had spent far more time here than she'd ever wanted. Had it really been over four years since she'd been here last? It seemed like yesterday.

As Poppy and Albus rose from their chairs to greet her, she could see Snape on the bed beyond them. From a distance, he looked merely asleep, the faint rise and fall of his chest normal and regular. Nearing them, she observed two green bottles sitting on the table by the bed. If she recalled correctly, the distinctive flagons held a potion of Snape's devising from years ago which was usually quite effective against Dark Art spells. Ah well, it wouldn't do to guess now when she was only seconds away from finding out what she needed to know.

Inclining her head at each of them in turn, she said without preamble, "Albus. Poppy. You indicated some urgency, so forgive me if I dispense with the pleasantries. What's happened to our esteemed Potions Master and why do you need _my_ services when you have a perfectly competent _Sanos_ Healer at hand?"

"It's a _Confundus Desparo_ Curse," Poppy said calmly as if the simple statement explained everything.

And it did. "Hmm. Not any easy one by any means. I see you've used Severus' potion," she said, pointing to the bottles on the table.

"Yes, we gave him a dose of the _Infensus Curatio Potion_, which seemed to at least ease his ongoing discomfort. Afterwards, Albus tried to break the curse, but was only marginally successful. You should know that when they brought him in, he was suffering from deep shock from physical torture and the lingering after-effects of arrested hypothermia and dehydration. Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody had already attempted rudimentary in-the-field healing, but he still had multiple lacerations as well as deep bruising, and a deep knife wound, easily healed, in his left shoulder. And of course, over all of this was the curse."

Ah, that's right, she'd forgot the name, but not what it did. Going back to task, she mused, "Shock and hypothermia? You have removed all traces?" When Poppy nodded, Quiesta said, "Thank you. As usual, you make my job so much easier." Addressing her next question to the headmaster, she asked, "How far is the curse mitigated?"

Dumbledore spoke up. "I managed to shrink its influence, with Harry's help, but was unable to contain it enough to break the cycle of despair. Severus makes it worse by fighting us because he's been stripped of all hope with a _Draught of Despair_. And, of course, the Marks carrying it are permanent. While the spell itself is appalling, I'm sure you'll understand when I say the workmanship in this case is exceptional and _perfect_."

Squelching her curiosity, Quiesta nodded her comprehension. "Perfect, you say? I know of only three practitioners who can do so and one of them is comfortably dead, one of them is too infirm, and the other--" She thought about it a moment, then sighed. "It doesn't matter. In any event, I'm familiar with _his_ methods."

She approached Severus and visually examined him. Reaching a hand out, she lightly traced the eyes on his chest. "You know, Severus, most people just settle for tattoos," she murmured. "Beautiful work in an awful kind of way, though." Running her fingers lightly between the two Marks, she felt the edges of a third. "Hello. What's this?" Frowning slightly and bending closer to look, she touched it again, surprise flitting across her features when the clean magic tingled against her skin. Straightening, she turned back to face the silent Medi-witch and headmaster, saying matter of factly, "Most intriguing. What was the sequence of events?"

Dumbledore considered her a moment, saying slowly, "After the curse was 'set', a certain _someone_ prepared Severus by using a _Draught of Despair_ while telling him Harry was dead. Sometime later, the _Confundus Desparo_ was activated by the one who cast it after he'd incapacitated Severus with a throwing knife."

It would never be said that Quiesta was a slow, stupid woman and such were her own experiences healing and dodging the sometimes deadly results caused by Voldemort's minions, it took her less than 10 seconds to deduce what Albus was trying not to tell her outright. "Malfoy always did like hedging his bets when playing his little games of chance," Quiesta muttered half to herself. "Why is nothing ever simple?" She shook her head, ridding it of old memories. "Albus, if Severus is actively fighting us, any attempt will ultimately fail even if it were Harry doing the work."

"So I understand, which is why I have sent for something which will provide great assistance eliminating at least this part of the problem. Remus should be here any moment with it."

Quiesta raised a brow. "Can I assume that, as usual, you're going to leave me in suspense as to what 'this' is?" Expecting and getting no reply, Quiesta muttered under her breath, "You're such a drama queen."

Bristling at Albus' outright laughter, Quiesta huffed, "You do realise that, even if you are successful with whatever Mr. Lupin is bringing, the most I could accomplish with the _Sanos_ is a containment to prevent the curse from affecting Snape too much until such a time Potter can eradicate it?"

"That is all we expect. Severus _must_ be sufficiently healed to make vows with Harry _tonight_," he replied with utter seriousness.

"I understand," she said. Then something he'd said earlier caught up with her. "How is it you were able to involve Harry in the first stage?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I think _that_ is best explained by reading Severus. Perhaps now would be a good time for an initial exploration," he replied in his usual cryptic fashion.

Quiesta glanced at Poppy, who shrugged and rolled her eyes; they both knew better than trying to wring an answer out of the cagey headmaster when he chose not to reveal something. "Very well, let's see what we can see, then."

Quiesta moved to the head of the bed, where Poppy had cleared a space for her to work. She placed her fingers on Severus' temples and with little effort sank into the pathways. It took her only a few moments to find her objective and, moving around the core, she studied it in great detail, paying attention to how the second ward she sensed, the one in the middle, elegantly held the curse at bay. She could see Albus' temporary (at best) shoring, but as the second ward was doing its job admirably and given the nature of the _Sanos_, she quickly mapped out a course of action to tie the curse and the ward together to make her 'container' all the stronger.

As she was about to pull out, satisfied she knew what to do (assuming Albus could pull off his other 'miracle') she felt _him_--Harry's light presence residing in the ward. _'Oh ho, Potter. So that's how you were able to help Albus. You've kept the ward steady. Nicely done, if I may say so.'_

She could feel his startled reaction. _'Magistra Quiesta?'_

If she could have bowed she would have done so. As it was, her humour came through as she replied, _'One and the same.'_

_'You're ready to start?'_ Harry asked.

_'Not yet. I'm came in only to reconnoitre; I wanted to see for myself the curse's manifestations. Albus says Severus has lost all hope--it's a serious complication and I am waiting on some 'mystery' solution. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, hmmm?'_

_'One Hope on the way.'_

_'Oh? How so?'_ She could feel Harry chuckle. When she got no other explanation, she commented, _'You, young Harry, have been associating with the headmaster far too long.'_

_'Insults are not the way to get answers, Magistra.'_

_'I'm leaving now. Someone has just arrived--I 'hope' it's what we need. Until then...'_

When she received no response but his amusement, she pulled out and away as quickly as she'd gone in. Before turning to greet the newcomer, she murmured, "Cheeky brat--'hope', indeed." Moving away from the head of the bed she joined the others and Remus Lupin, whom she knew well from the war as she was one of only a handful who could treat and cure injured werewolves successfully. She'd seen him more times than either one of them cared to remember.

He'd only just arrived. In one hand he carried an empty, dark blue velvet pouch, in the other he raised a small crystal vial of potion up to the light, watching the substance within sparkle as it rolled and curled languidly. Quiesta knew immediately what it was and was about to caution him not to drop it when Remus spoke up. "What is this, Albus? I've never seen anything like it before."

Dumbledore stretched out a hand as if to catch it should it fall, saying calmly, "An _Ipsemet Potion_."

Closing his fist over the vial, Remus gaped, his startled face changing to queasy then awed. He'd obviously _heard_ of an _Ipsemet Potion_, but Quiesta knew that unless one was a Healer administering it, most people never saw one. Each one unique, the potion carried a bit of the very essence of the potion maker--in this case Harry--his body, his heart, his soul, his _being_. The 'cost' of that tiny vial was dear, not only in money and risk to obtain the ingredients (which included such things as fresh basilisk milk and unicorn tears) but also to the potioner, who (among other things) literally cut a pound of flesh from themselves to form the matrix of the brew.

The folk who made them, such as Aurors and Unspeakables and Curse Breakers who could afford it, kept them well hidden, usually in Gringotts, until needed for emergencies should they ever be separated from their minds. While it would not restore memories, a single dose could restore the _person_. She'd urged Harry make one his first year working with her; all Dark Arts Healers kept one, often trading services for the more obscure ingredients. She remembered he'd been very familiar with the potion without her having to explain it, saying at the time that he'd found _and used_ his mother's to help defeat Voldemort.

However, just from looking at it, Quiesta knew this was not the one he'd made all those years ago; it was very different, the crisp flashing colours deeper and richer with his greater life experience. No, this one was obviously only days away from the cauldron. _'A gift then,'_ she thought, astounded. For one to give it freely to another was the ultimate gesture of trust between wizards. Obviously never done lightly, it was hardly done at all. _'A small piece of Harry for Severus.'_ Knowing intimately what Harry did with his art and the risks he took, the gift took on a special meaning as it was obviously meant to console should anything ever happen to him.

Remus seemed to understand as well and hastily, but with the utmost care, handed the potion over to Dumbledore, who with equal vigilance, moved to the head of the bed beyond Severus' sight. Watching Poppy, he said quietly, "As we discussed, my dear. Wake him, please."

Quiesta tensed. This was, perhaps, the most dangerous part to the patient as any untoward movement could undo the work of hours if the person was not controlled immediately. Poppy held her wand at the ready and in rapid succession cast an "_Evigilo_" and a "_Ligo_", the first waking the man on the bed, the second binding him, leaving him the ability to move his face but not his head. Severus woke abruptly, surprisingly alert, but Quiesta supposed it was probably the habit of a lifetime to wake quickly and fully given what he'd done for the Order. All too soon, his face turned dark with the furious effort of breaking the bonds holding him fast.

He glared at those standing at the bed. "What is the meaning of this? Why am I bound? Where is Albus? Does he have more lies to tell me?"

Quiesta was taken aback by his unleashed fury. This was not despair, it was raw anger. Confused, she moved to the opposite side of the bed and, sitting down on the edge, bent close to him, saying quietly, "The bindings are for your own protection, Severus. You cannot be healed right now without them. Don't you remember? Avery marked you with a _Confundus Desparo_ curse we've been unable to break." She moved an errant strand of hair falling in his face, the gentle gesture and words at odds with her normal acerbic wit.

His voice breaking on a cry of sorrow, Severus said roughly, "I don't know why they bothered bringing you here; you're wasting your time. Go away. I don't want to be healed. I don't even want to be here. Release me." His voice sank to a whisper only she could hear. "Please, Carlotta, help me join Harry."

Appalled, she asked him gently, taking his hand, "You would take your own life, Severus?"

His words forceful, he cried, "Damn it! He's _dead_. Will no one leave me be?" He closed his eyes, saying piteously, "It's not my life anymore if he's not in it."

Quiesta glanced up at Dumbledore, who nodded. "Harry is alive, Severus. I spoke to him myself a few minutes ago."

He stared into her eyes trying to read her; she knew it would be futile--she had too many blocks against just such an invasion. Defeated, he declared emphatically, "You lie like the others. Why, Carlotta?"

Stung, she retorted without thinking, "Yes, Severus, I'm lying to you. I enjoy lying. Do it all the time."

Severus' eyes opened wide, then narrowed. "You dare mock me?"

"Only when you make irrational, stupid statements like the last one. Really, Severus, your brain cells haven't been damaged, so use them. Have I _ever_ lied to you, even when it would have been infinitely more convenient to do so?"

Using their exchange as a distraction, Albus stretched out his hands, holding the vial under Severus' nose. Seeing what he was doing, Severus tried to move, but unable to escape, his chest rose and fell rapidly as he began to hyperventilate in panic, his eyes tracking wildly. Quiesta reached over and with a quiet, "Albus, a little warning is never remiss--your bedside manner leaves much to be desired," placed her hand on Severus' chest, whispering a spell that soon had him breathing deeply despite his visible fear. Looking at him kindly, she said dryly, "It's all right, Severus, Albus was just playing doctor." She smiled when Severus snorted with derision.

Working the stopper, Albus ignored them and closely watched the steady rise and fall of Severus' chest and, when the moment was right, broke the seal. A fine vapour sparkled out of the vial, it's foggy whiteness curling and twisting in the air for an instant before disappearing into Severus with a single inhalation. His body convulsed once, a deep shiver running through him as if he were violently cold, the trembling ceasing as abruptly as it started, leaving him limp on the bed. Albus looked thoughtful as he walked back around to the side of the bed near Poppy, replacing the stopper in the vial.

Severus' eyes warily tracked Albus' progress.

"Feel better, my boy?" Albus asked uncertainly.

"That was Harry," Severus replied incredulously, "I could smell him, _feel him_." He looked around at his friends ringing the bed. "He's really alive?"

Breathing a heartfelt sigh of relief, Quiesta removed the spells binding him, ready to reset them if necessary. "Congratulations, Albus. It looks like you pulled off another miracle." Poppy's chuckle was echoed by Remus'.

Slowly, with Quiesta and Poppy's help, Severus sat up, his shaking hands loose in his lap, still covered by a sheet. His face tightening in pain, he took several deep breaths to master it. Once he realised they were still holding onto him, one on either side of the bed, he shook them off, strangely silent.

Smiling, Dumbledore said with his usual cheer, "Yes, Harry is alive. Finished the _Ipsemet Potion_ himself just two days ago. He made it for you as a wedding gift, only I don't think he knew you would need it so soon."

Severus nodded and closed his eyes, concentrating. After a few moments, the despair was evident as he opened them. His brow furrowed with determination and perplexity, he asked, "If Harry is alive, why isn't he here? I'm having difficulty understanding why he's stayed away--and why I can't _find_ him now."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. He glanced guiltily around at the other three people near the bed before saying apologetically, "Harry's absence is my doing, Severus."

A grimace passed over the Potions master's face before he said, "Why am I not surprised. Hurry, Albus, and tell me why. I don't know how much longer I can ignore this damned thing."

"There are two reasons Harry is not present, the first one being he would not have been able to help me activate and strengthen your personal wards had he been here. He still needs to be near the _object_ to do so and right now, until Carlotta can get to work, those wards are the only thing holding Avery's curse at bay. The protection they afford is tenuous, at best." Eyeing Severus' growing scepticism, Albus continued hastily. "Lucius was mistaken when he said Harry was dead, but he did not lie in that he _thought_ Harry dead; he tried to have him killed last night. Between the extra spells I cast and the wards you both share, he will be safer in your quarters until the appointed time."

Dumbledore sat on the edge of the bed and took Severus' hands, saying softly, "It's good to have you back, my boy. And I _am_ sorry you have been so sorely hurt; I had _no_ idea the mission would be so brutal. Please forgive me that I keep Harry away from you until later this evening, but until then, you must fight the feelings the curse is giving you. Just keep reminding yourself that Harry is alive and will meet you soon, otherwise _this_," he placed the empty vial in Severus' hand, folding the fingers over it, his own keeping them closed, "will have been used in vain. And you, of all people, know the _true_ cost of this potion."

Severus nodded his understanding, but narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "How do I know you didn't find the potion after he died?"

Remus stepped closer. "Ah, Harry was concerned you might feel that way." Seeing that Snape was listening, he went on, "He asked me to pass on a few messages, the first being that he loves you and he'll be there, waiting for you, at the appointed time. That he wanted to be here when you woke." If Remus was surprised at the softening in Severus' face, he forbore to mention it. "He also wanted me to tell you that the person who gave me the potion wants to know what happens when you cross a squid with a cock."

It started as a small chuckle, building until Severus shocked them all by tipping his head back and, for the first time since he'd left the castle the night before, laughed long and low. His arm wrapped around his stomach, Severus fell back on the bed, shaking his head.

"I think I missed the joke somewhere," Remus mumbled. "All right, out with it, you auld sod. I've been wracking my brains for the last half-hour trying to figure it out. What the hell does it mean?" Remus asked with a mock growl.

Wiping laugh-tears out of his eyes, Severus gasped, "Squick."

"What?"

"You get a squick." Looking around at the people standing stoically by the bed, Severus muttered, "Never mind. Private joke." He eyed Dumbledore, the smile disappearing as quickly as it came. "I believe you, but I don't know how long I can hold out against this. The feelings are strong and already I am beginning to doubt you even with the proof you have brought."

"I think that's my cue to get started," Quiesta said, getting ready to move to the head of the bed. "Severus, I am going to need you to stay still, do you think you're capable of it?"

"I don't know, Carlotta. This curse causes more than just despair, the paranoia exceeds even my normal bounds," he replied grimly. "There is one thing, though. Albus, if I remember the _Schema_ of the curse, Carlotta will not be able to heal it, will she?"

Dumbledore replied evenly, "No, she can merely contain it. Only Harry, after the ceremony tonight, can break it completely."

Urgently, he asked, "Will the remnants of the curse affect our binding?"

Quiesta hadn't thought of this. While it was out of her realm of experience, she had a few ideas. Slowly the words came, forming theories as she spoke. "I'm not sure. Although I can see what needs to be accomplished and can do it, I've never done it this way before. Usually the person affected is either already married, in which case I use their bond to break the curse, or if not, I use the _Sanos_ to make them more comfortable until the end. I suppose it's possible, if the containment fails, that the curse could block the binding as it would change the intentions of one of the parties involved, but I can't see that happening unless--" her eyes widened in dismay "--unless you dwell on it; the memories of the act itself, of the words used in the spell _could_ be enough to reactivate it. Or if Harry were to see it, he might inadvertently..." her voice trailed off, the thought unspeakable.

She could see Snape easily following her logic. "Hmmm. I wondered about that. What if Albus were to _Obliviate_ me?"

Her mind working quickly, she said, "Yes, it might work. Albus?"

Dumbledore had been following the exchange, his face serious. "It's an excellent idea for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that it will make your job easier, Carlotta. Although I normally prefer to use the Pensieve as it is more precise, he might not remember what it is he has to remove after he takes the first memory out. A simple _Obliviate_ is too crude and permanent, but an _Obliviate_ using _Legilimency_ with a _Reversus_ modifier should serve us well enough. Once we remove the more _distressing_ memories," he looked at Severus significantly over his spectacles, "I will hold them until you can retrieve them at your leisure."

Severus was starting to sweat, his face pasty. He dropped his head, breaking eye contact with the headmaster as he muttered, "Harry is alive, I _know_ he is, so damn it, go away." Twisting the sheet in his hands, he raised troubled eyes to Dumbledore, saying, "I've always trusted you, Albus. It's harder now with all that is going on inside me right now. You _will_ give them back?"

"You have my oath on it, Severus, Wizard's Honour. If you don't come to me tomorrow for them, I will seek you out to return them."

Remus and Poppy's simultaneous, "Heard and witnessed," caused Snape to relax slightly.

Nodding, Severus said, "Just do it--and hurry."

"Where do you wish me to start?" Dumbledore asked practically.

Severus thought about it only for an instant before saying, "With Avery's 'Lady' until the moment he activated the damned thing. I suppose that should be sufficient."

Quiesta cringed as she watched Albus cast the _Legilimens_, thinking of Avery's 'pet'. That Severus bore no visible scars from its recent use spoke of his good fortune that Avery had decided not to use Dark magic to seal the marks while he wielded it; he'd probably not had the time to do so. She'd always hated having to heal his victims during the war; his evil had clung to everything he touched and she remembered the heart-sickening 'feel' all too well. She wasn't looking forward to working on the Potions master.

Dumbledore's "_Obliviate Quod Reversus_," drew her attention back to the occupant of the bed. With the removal of the memories, Severus looked disoriented and confused. Small wonder, since he now had no knowledge of why he was feeling the way he was.

Before he could respond, she said briskly, "All right, let's get started," moving to the head of the bed. "Severus, lay down, and be still. If you're not, I will have to bind you and we both know how much you'll enjoy that."

Remus spoke, relief and humour in his voice, "You never know. He _does_ live in a dungeon, you know." Quiesta stared hard at him, years of quelling students in her eyes. Remus looked to the side, saying sheepishly, "Sorry, it was only a joke." With Severus' snort of black amusement, Remus turned back to look at him and winked.

Quiesta took a deep breath, centering herself for the work ahead. When ready, she placed her hands on Severus' temples and paused. "Ready?" she asked, waiting.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Proceed," he replied, closing his eyes.

She looked at Dumbledore and Poppy, who nodded. Remus was watching Severus intently. Closing her eyes, she sank into the pathways.

* * *

TBC


	24. Part II : Shifting Perspectives

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Twenty Four : Shifting Perspectives**

**25 October 2003** (Continued)

**5:15 pm**

Staring at the closed door, Harry supposed that if he thought of anyone as a father, it would have to be Remus. Turning back into the sitting room, he couldn't think of a time when Remus hadn't been there for him, and in hindsight, aside from an expected, token resistance, he was glad he'd given the potion to him without hesitation. Remus had enough burdens in his life without him adding more. The danger involved in giving it to someone else had never been a consideration, then or now; he knew whom he could trust and, while Severus topped the list (although it was a 'different' kind of trust than with the others), Remus was almost as close, and to his consternation, Albus stubbornly remained there as well despite Harry's current feelings to the contrary. No, as far as he was concerned, milking the basilisk had been far more perilous than giving the finished potion to his lover, or Remus, or even Albus, would ever be.

When he'd first heard the ward's chiming, he'd reluctantly severed his connection to Severus, hoping it was someone to take him to the infirmary. While he _was_ disappointed, the waiting was far less onerous now than when he'd had less information. And it was comforting to think that if he couldn't _be_ there, it wouldn't hinder him from _being_ there. As he returned impatiently to his abandoned window seat, Harry mulled over his conversation with Remus. At least the sequence of events was clear now, although the unanswered questions as to why Albus had done it this way still nagged him. And Harry had no doubt in his mind the whole thing had to have a purpose.

His back against the stone, he closed his eyes and effortlessly joined with Severus, even though he was still unconscious. The connection secure, he was about to cast Albus' locator spell when he suddenly felt another presence--someone familiar but not Albus. He cast about in his memory until he recognized Professor Quiesta. Relaxing somewhat, he familiarized himself to her _feel_, once well known from the days when they would 'travel' in tandem through patients while learning his art.

With another "_Repario Aperio,_" the world once again twisted so he could see inside the infirmary as well as inside Severus. He was almost accustomed to the dual sensations although initially he still experienced disorientation. It looked like they'd already started. With Albus' nod from the head of the bed, Poppy raised her wand and within moments, Severus was awake. Harry could _feel_ him again, but given the pain he'd inadvertently caused him the last time he'd tried to make contact, he regretfully clamped down hard on the bond to block him.

However, he didn't need the bond to read Severus' distress, barely hidden by a raging fury. Whatever the cause, it prompted Quiesta to show her usually well hidden compassion when she sat on the side of his bed. Harry ached, wishing he was the one holding Severus' hand and giving comfort instead of someone else. Helpless and torn, he witnessed his lover's raw suffering totally overwhelm him and knew in full how it would be should he ever grow careless. Not all of Severus' despair came from the curse; most of it revealed his lover's true feelings in believing him dead, otherwise the curse could never have been so devastating. He knew Severus' grief-stricken visage would haunt him, a vivid reminder he should take greater care to ensure his mate _never_ wore that face again.

Over the next few, tense minutes, his emotions ran the gamut. He'd wanted to slap Albus for ignoring Severus' panic at being bound. If Quiesta hadn't calmed Severus' breathing, he surely would have tried and had been ready to intervene when Quiesta cast the spell. Holding his figurative breath, he watched the curling tendrils of himself enter his lover. Hope, anxiety, and elation filled him when Severus looked around for him. The soft nudges along the edges of the block Harry so desperately wanted to drop made him want to cry in sorrow as did the flash of hopelessness in Severus' eyes when he failed to breach it. Albus' guilty glance surprised him almost as much as his own temptation to forgive the man when Albus talked to Severus with such love in his eyes. Remus' recitation of Harry's messages made him smile, which turned into a real grin at Severus' genuine laughter over their 'private squicks'. Love and pride swelled his heart as he watched Severus fighting the curse.

When Quiesta moved into place, he prepared himself for her invasion, one that never materialised. What the hell were they discussing now? Damn, he wished he could hear what was going on. The open trust on Severus' face as Albus promised him something gave Harry pause. He studied the others circling the bed. Quiesta's and Remus' faces were hard to read, but Poppy's? Poppy's expression was all too familiar, and though he'd never seen it from the outside, he knew it all too well on the inside--the wistful one that said, 'If only you knew him the way I do'.

With a shift of perspective, he wondered if maybe he was just as guilty of assuming the worst of Albus as those who had hatefully criticized Severus without really knowing him. These close friends had all known Dumbledore for a lifetime longer than Harry and obviously trusted the headmaster with more than their lives. Was it a logical progression that he have complete trust in the man, too? Were his recent impressions more a product of his own frustration and youth (as Quiesta had so aptly reminded him) than any real breach of faith? Harry had no answers, but he did have to ask if not giving all the details made any man, even himself or Severus, necessarily untrustworthy? Harry didn't know the answer to this either, but it was certainly something to think about.

Startled out of his thoughts as Albus raised his wand, Harry held on as a strong surge of magic almost tossed him out. With the unexpected, but painfully familiar presence of the headmaster 'inside' him, he realised he'd just experienced a _Legilimens_. Desperate to find out what was going on, he was about to risk making contact when he felt a great ripping sensation like when Dudley had pulled duct tape off his arms as a child. It stung and hurt, leaving him dizzy.

While he reoriented himself, Quiesta slid in like a fish through water. With no fuss, she dove into the dark core. Exploring, she tested its strength and resilience, and, more importantly, how much it 'pushed' back if confined. He could feel her probing the place where he resided, but not in a 'How are you doing over there?' kind of way, but more in a 'Hmmm, how best can I use you?' manner. He heard the _Sanos_ and felt its soft warmth fluttering around the ward with gentle prods as if trying to tap into it. Why? To help 'power' her containment?

Instinctively, he knew this was a _very_ bad idea. With great care, he let go of the block he was still holding tight. Immediately, he sensed Severus' elated response to Harry's presence. More than anything, Harry wanted to bask in his lover's presence, but he had to stop Quiesta _now_, so after a swift, soft caress to let Severus know he was loved, he urgently addressed his former teacher.

_'Magistra, what are you doing?'_

Startled, Quiesta paused, the _Sanos_ ceasing as she replied with an impatient mental sigh, _'I was trying to tie your ward to the curse to contain it.'_

_'I'm not sure that's wise.'_ There was a lengthy pause at the end of which Harry asked, _'Will a connection damage the ward?'_

While Quiesta considered it, Harry could feel Severus' interest. Finally, she responded, _'It might, but that is the purpose of such things and it can always be recast.'_

Harry sensed the ward was far more than any of them knew; with a flash of ethereal communication, Harry could feel Severus concurring. _'No, unfortunately, it cannot. It may appear simple, but it's actually quite complex--hell, we don't understand the half of it; however, it's tied to a physical object--if you destroy or change it, you could bring down half the castle. And I have no idea what the consequences would be to Severus and myself.'_

Quiesta's consternation came through quite clear. _'That is most inconvenient. Since it's your ward, do you have any suggestions?'_

_'Can you contain the curse without using it?'_

_'That is the standard practice with curses of this nature.'_

_'While I admit I've never heard of them before, it seems to me the standard course is the most logical course. Yes?'_

He could almost hear the gusty sigh she always gave when irritated about something. _'Very well. One 'normal' containment coming up. You do know it might not hold.'_

Harry was well aware of this. _'Perhaps, but--how was it you always phrased it?--Confidence, Mr. Potter--if you can't muster a firm faith in your abilities, you should just pack up your tent and go home--I noticed yours is still pitched, so what's the problem? Or are you just being more pessimistic than normal?'_

He felt her amusement and Severus' snort when she retorted, _'Impudent whelp! I am entirely unsure whether you should be permitted to further associate with either Severus or the headmaster any more than necessary; you're devolving.'_

Harry chuckled with the first optimistic mirth he'd had in hours. _'A little late now, don't you think? Please, don't let me keep you from it. I'll just sit in my little corner over here and watch the Master at work.'_ With a mental snort, Quiesta resumed the _Sanos_.

Intellectually, Harry knew he should raise the shield, but he couldn't just yet. They needed this and with profound relief shared a tender caress. Harry revelled in Severus's loving presence wrapped tightly around him. Emboldened by the comforting contact, he cautiously sent a picture of his hand touching Severus' face. It was a mistake. Pain lanced through his head, blinding him. Without thought, he immediately resumed the block.

The _Sanos_ stopped abruptly; when he could see again, Quiesta was having a heated discussion with Severus. Knowing intimately how much she hated to be interrupted once she started to work, he was unsurprised to find himself ousted at the same time she cast a sleeping spell over Severus. As he soon discovered, Quiesta had effectively blocked him, which didn't bother him as much as he would have thought; with Quiesta working the _Sanos_, he couldn't have communicated much more with Severus anyway without risking her success.

No, he could safely leave his lover in her capable hands.

* * *

**5:40 pm**

Poppy knew there was no real reason she or Albus really needed to be here, but she supposed a justifiable argument could be made for 'just in case'. Or at least she hoped so. Otherwise they would be forced to resort to such trite phrases as 'Professional Curiosity' (which loosely translated into 'It's quite amusing to listen to you talk to yourself while you work,') or 'It's an interesting procedure,' (which really meant, 'I'd rather watch grass grow, but I'm worried about the silly bugger and want to make sure for myself he's all right,') or even 'Your occasional commentary is educational,' (which could be anything from 'I just want to see what song you make up this time,' to 'Did you know you make the funniest sounds when you suck your teeth?') Of course, all of them would be true, but she was fairly sure no one had ever had the guts to tell Quiesta about the funny noises.

Right now, even employing the _Sanos_, Quiesta was talking to herself, in itself a normal occurrence; one could usually follow her progress by the level of sarcasm she employed. If the running monologue was anything to go by, she was--frustrated.

"Harry, what the hell do you think you're going on about? Get back in there where he can't see you. Harry! Damn it--well. There. Now you've done it." The _Sanos_ stopped abruptly and was followed quickly by a muttered, "What do you think I'm doing? My nails?" She seemed to be listening; Albus had told Poppy they could 'hear' Harry inside Severus even though he was halfway across the castle. While it certainly wasn't the oddest thing she'd ever heard, one simply had to consider the sources to realise that _anything_ was in the realm of possibility when Albus, Severus, and Harry were concerned. Throwing Quiesta into the mix simply ensured that it might even be a bit more outrageous.

Quiesta's irritation was growing as she obviously answered something Harry had asked her. "Of course it's going to damage the ward, silly boy. I intend to use it up. You _do_ want to get married sometime this century, don't you?"

Severus' eyes flew open. "Carlotta..."

"Yes, Severus?" she asked sweetly. This was never a good sign.

Severus 'listened' for a moment. "Nothing, Harry got it." He sighed, closing his eyes again.

Remus shifted nervously off to the side. Her attention fully focused on Carlotta, Poppy felt a little guilty she'd forgot he was even there. He sidled over to her and asked, "What's going on?"

Poppy leaned over and whispered, "I can only assume Harry and Carlotta are arguing over something." Remus looked around the room and then back at Poppy, clearly confused. She sighed. "Albus said he could 'talk' to Harry..."

She was interrupted by Quiesta's growl. "What do you mean it could bring down half the castle?"

"Actually, only a quarter, but it's close enough," Severus said quietly, opening one eye.

Quiesta hissed at him to be quiet. Closing her eyes, a slew of emotions ran over her mobile face. Consternation, worry, and irritation were all vented in one huge sigh. Her eyes opening wide, she started to chuckle. "Perhaps, but at least mine is not a pup tent."

Severus snorted, then winced. Quiesta looked down at him, shaking her head. "You know there _was_ a good reason I asked you to stay still, Severus. Now that you've had a taste of what happens when you don't, one would assume you wouldn't do it again."

She held her attitude of listening for few seconds more, a soft squeaking sound issuing from her as her mouth worked around her teeth. "Brat. Fine, now may I _please_ get back to work."

She closed her eyes again, taking deep calming breaths when her eyes popped open. "You're both impossible. Can't you two keep your hands to yourselves for just one small moment? You have all bloody life to do that, but NOT if you keep interrupting me."

"Harry?" Severus cried out in pain, his hands going to his head, almost knocking hers out of the way. "No, Harry, don't go."

"Severus, Stay Still!" She firmed her touch to his temples, her fingers working under his hands until she had her normal contact points. She bent down to the stricken man, saying gently, her low voice compelling, "Severus, _listen_ to me. Harry is still there; he has not gone away. He watches, but he's blocking you because he knows that as long as the curse is open, he hurts you. Now, stay still, _please_. If I don't finish this, you'll _never_ get to touch him."

"Curse? What curse?" he asked plaintively. "Why can't I talk to him anymore?"

Quiesta had been patient, at least for her, but Poppy could see it wearing thin. "Severus, we're a little busy right now--you won't be able to talk to Harry until I get finished, and I'm never going to get _there_ unless you stop talking and stay still!"

"But I can't feel him anymore. I just want to--"

"That's it--_Sopophorus_!" She regarded the sleeping man a moment before murmuring, "I'm sorry for the abrupt exorcism, Harry, but I need to get this done and you're a distraction to him _and_ me. Merlin, it's tiresome working on cursed patients."

Poppy could sympathise. While the method could have been a little smoother, and she herself might have handled it differently, she also realised that Quiesta was relatively young and an academic; she'd learn in time when it was her own loved one under someone else's care. She glanced to the side and noticed Remus was again standing to the side, watching Carlotta carefully. When had he moved away? Poppy made her way over to him, saying quietly, "Mr. Lupin? I seem to recall you had an appointment with your mattress. I know time is short, but I think it best you have a lie down for a little while before the ceremony."

"Yes, Mum," he muttered. He continued grousing as he left the infirmary, "Won't get a proper sleep in any event, so I don't know why I can't stay. Interfering, meddlesome..." Poppy supposed he should be glad her hearing, selective and otherwise, wasn't what it used to be or he might have found himself with a _Hot Seat Hex_ on his more tender parts. She moved back to where she had been, looking around for Albus. She could have sworn he'd been there a few minutes ago. Drat the man--if he went to prepare the Room without telling her, she was going to...

"Ah, finally--peace and quiet," Carlotta said, closing her eyes. When her face relaxed, Poppy knew she was back in the pathways. For several minutes there wasn't a sound, not even any squeaks. Most unusual; Carlotta usually made a running commentary. Poppy was about to move off to look for Albus, er, straighten the surrounding area when Quiesta muttered, "Ugh! It's like a cesspool in here. The only thing missing is the 'Avery was here' sign. C'mon, c'mon. I know it's here somewhere. Where did you hide it, 'Linnie'? I can't unravel the jumper if I can't find the loose end of yarn. Oh ho! Found it! Had to be blind to miss it, old girl; Albus did everything but paint it day-glo pink. All right, 'Linnie', let's see what you're made of. Sugar and spice and everything nice? No? Didn't think so. Snips and snails, and puppy dogs tails seem more your speed, although from what I hear, you're not getting _any_ tail right now. Oh, too bad."

Poppy was relieved it was starting--The Monologue. It meant Carlotta was actively working and a happy healer was a good healer. She listened to the ongoing dialogue Quiesta was having with herself. It seemed she was making progress until about twenty minutes later she exclaimed, "Bloody great git! Damn him, he threw me out."

Poppy watched the determined healer close her eyes to start over, when a familiar hand on her shoulder startled a squawk out of her. She was about to ask Albus where he'd been, when she felt the distinctive chill emanating from his skin. The Orrery. Sudden fury filled her. It was so bloody dangerous the way he worked in it and with the added complications of his dodgy health, it was a wonder he hadn't killed himself yet. But given what he still had left to do, the night was still young. She took hold of his arm and pulled him to her office where they could speak without being overheard.

She'd no more opened her mouth to scold him, when he held up his hands, saying, "Now, love, I only went to check on the schedule for tonight. Nothing more. Carlotta said she would most likely run late and I needed to see how a time delay affected their binding tonight so I would know how to prepare the Room."

"Hmph," she huffed. "That is barely acceptable and you know it, Albus. Must you always walk the edge?"

A small frown marred his brow. "I do not always 'walk the edge', and no, it won't affect the bond, thank-you-very-much-for-asking."

"I knew that," she said raising a brow.

"Oh? Polished up our crystal ball this evening, have we?"

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!" He winced--she'd used all his names. "Of course I knew. What? You think seventy-three years of marriage has left me blind to your ways? If there had been a problem, you certainly would not have come here to tell _me_ about it. You would have sulked in your office for a bit while you reckoned the best course, then you would have gone back in and changed the bloody chronometer in the Room so they could bond on time, and if after all that you were still alive, you'd come back here, all smug-like, acting contrite with any one of the thousands of reasons or millions of apologies you've devised over the last century to justify doing what you damned well intended to in the first place."

Chest heaving, she turned to leave, when he stopped her with a hand on her arm. Swinging her around, he took her tight in his arms, the ensuing kiss long and passionate. "Such fire," he murmured when he released her lips. He kissed her again until she melted against him. Breaking the kiss, she settled her head on his shoulder, his arms warm around her. "Dearest Popples, you have no idea how much I love you, how much your scoldings mean to me." He kissed her temple. "As long as you do, I know I'm loved. Don't stop, all right?"

She swallowed her sniffles. "Albus, please--_please_ be careful. I--I want you around as long as I can have you. Please, don't be foolish," she begged.

He rubbed his cheek on the top of her hair. "Hush, love. My time is further rather than nearer. We only have to get through tonight and then afterwards they'll be ready to start taking over. No more trips alone anymore." He sighed. "I _am_ tired, Popples. Their youth sometimes wears me out, but it rejuvenates me, too. Which is to the good, since one cannot exactly retire from this post. Just another little detail they failed to mention in the 'Headmaster's Guide to Hogwarts'." Chuckling, he continued, "And Minerva is frothing to take over more of my duties." At Poppy's snort of amusement, he said, "I know. I tried to warn her to be careful what she wished for... I think I'll let _her_ handle Septimius."

At that, Poppy pulled away, laughing, as she swatted him on the shoulder. "Oh, you! Redirecting--again--and me? I'm buying it--again." She caressed the side of his face, her fingers smoothing his beard. "Whatever am I to do with you?"

"Love me?" he asked almost wistfully, kissing the palm of her hand.

Her eyes softened. "Always, Wully. I'll always love you. Even when I want to kill you."

"Ah, there's my girl," he said, chuckling. He put his arm around her shoulders as they left her office. "I have to go see Harry now, _then_ I will go direct from there to prepare the Room. Afterwards, I will rest and wait for our guests there. And you. I'll be waiting for you, Popples."

She stopped and lifted her face to him, knowing he would oblige; Albus was many things to many people, but he never could resist a sweet. And it was, soft and gentle, but all too soon, their lips parted, and they continued on their way back to Quiesta's side. As he was about to depart, he turned to face her and leaned over to whisper, "I am sorry I'm going to miss the 'show'. Could you please record her? I suspect it will be singularly amusing tonight."

Poppy was about to reply she would be glad to do it for him, when Quiesta suddenly cried in anger, "Damn it! He did it again. I'm just trying to block your pain centres, you fool. Can't tell the difference between pain and pleasure, eh? Bloody poofter--can't take a woman in there, is that it?"

Albus smiled. "I'll just leave you to it."

"Coward!" Poppy whispered to his departing back.

* * *

**6:15 pm**

With growing optimism, Harry decided that with less than two hours remaining, now would be as good a time as any to start getting ready. Climbing out of the window seat, he heard the _Sanos_. Astonished, he couldn't recall a time when he'd been aware of someone else _Sanos_-healing when he wasn't directly involved or very close to the source, which was definitely not the case now. Entering the bedchamber, he placed his hand on his chest and felt the spell resonating through the ward. Well, _this_ was convenient.

The last golden rays of the setting sun, framed by the bedchamber windows, made the crisp white duvet glow against the rich colours of the floor rugs by the sides of the huge four-poster bed. Shedding his clothes in a pile, he donned his dressing gown and, padding to the bathroom, grabbed a bath sheet off of a set of shelves lining the hallway. He hung his dressing gown on the hook by the door, noticing some new plants by the low window. He wondered, as he waded through the scalding water, whether it was Severus' doing or Dobby's, who was always finding them new exotic plants to put in here and the greenhouse. Dobby was becoming quite the herbologist and Harry often relied on his growing expertise learned at the hands of Sprout. He took a seat on the ledge midway where the water was not too hot, but was sufficient to start working the kinks out of his back and neck. While soaking, he let his thoughts drift with the current.

He thought on the potion he'd made for Severus. In the two months it had taken him to brew it, he'd not once thought of other things for which it might be used; after all he had his own for emergencies and his intent this time around had been simple--make something to console Severus should anything happen to him. With careful employment, the vial would have lasted years, although with what he'd seen today, he suspected it would never be enough.

Unfortunately, he was certain that being more concerned about accuracy and timing than conserving the potion, the headmaster had emptied the vial. It was no matter; Albus had found a better use for it and Harry found it brought him one step closer to forgiving the man. Although he _was_ out one wedding gift. Shrugging, he decided he could always make another one--there was plenty of thigh left and dealing with the baby basilisk had been far less difficult than it was generally made out to be. Of course, being a Parselmouth had been a bit of help in that regard; he laughed, thinking there was a damned fine living to be made from it if he were ever so inclined.

His thoughts turned to Severus and this led him to Quiesta, who literally held their future in her hands. While their exchange had been brief, he was heartened she was there; if anyone could help Severus, it would be her. But it had left him with even more questions than before. He resolved to go to the library later to research this curse--if he couldn't find what he needed in the pages of Severus' books, he would just have to consult with Quiesta about it. He wanted this _thing_ gone as quickly as Severus could stand its removal.

Harry closed his eyes and started thinking about the events of the day when a soft hiss, near his ear, brought him swiftly back to reality. Turning his head, he found himself almost nose to nose with Horatio.

_Greetingsss, Harry. I sssee you made it back from your trip with the Sssmall One._

_Greetingsss, Horatio. I sssee you woke from your nap. The White One sssaid you had quite an adventure today._

_Oh yesss, I left the Nessst, but the The White One brought me back and found me a rat to eat. I do not know why I wasss ssso hungry--the little sssnake wasss quite filling. Maybe it wasss becaussse I wasss hurt? But the Big Red Bird (who wasss really ugly today) tried to helpsss and the White One healed me._

Harry pulled back his head in confusion. _Horatio, you talk in circlesss. Could you pleassse Ssstraighten your Tail?_

_Oh. I am sssorry. I forgotsss--you were sssleeping the Winter Sssleep._

Harry mulled this over. Hibernation? _The Winter Sssleep._

_Well, not exactly. The Massster made you sleepsss, becaussse I could not wakesss you._

_By the ssseasssonsss, Horatio, if you will._

_Oh! Sssorry. All right. After the Massster left the Yellow Sssquare for you on the Fire Place, the Sssmall One with the Bad Sssmell invaded our ssspace and threw it into the Place Where the Ratsss Sssometimesss Hide. I wanted the mouse he ate very much, but I knew he would hurt me if he found me ssso I ssstayed very ssstill and sssilent. Then he disssappeared, but he never came back for the sssmall sssnake--I think he lossst her--named Esssmerelda, who wasss very cold and, trying to ssstay warm, she climbed on the bed with you, but sssince it wasss not the Time of Mating, I knew she did not belong here ssso I followed her into the Sssleeping Place; she wasss very rude--she bitesss me without a challenge and when she tried to bitesss you I challenged her and made her bitesss me inssstead. It hurt, ssso I killed her and ate her, but after, I wasss ssso sssleepy, I ssslithered into the warm place next to you (where I know I am not sssupposssed to be and I am very sssorry) but I wasss ssso cold and you were ssso warm and..._

Reeling, Harry interrupted him. _Ssso isss **that** why I could not wakesss you thisss morning?_

Horatio hissed indignantly, _I thought you wanted me to Ssstraighten my Tail._

With an indulgent smile, Harry replied, _I do, but now I want you to anssswer my quessstion before you do ssso._

Pragmatically, Horatio asked, _How would I knowsss? I wasss sssleeping. I wokesss when you and the Sssmall One named Dobby were leaving. May I finish now?_

Harry chuckled and slid a finger down Horatio's side, which earned him an affectionate nudge. _By all meansss, oh long-tailed one, pleassse do._

Horatio gave an equivalent of a snake harumph. _Hmmmsss. I wokesss too hot and after I ssstretched the hot out I fell out of the bed and went to the Place Where the Ratsss Sssometimesss Hide to get the Yellow Sssquare and I almossst had it when Winky, may mitesss infessst her sssilly earsss, tipped me into it. After I tied myssself in a knot I FINALLY essscaped (with the Yellow Sssquare), but I did not know where you were, ssso I left our Nessst to give it to the White One usssing the sssame path the Massster usssed when he took me to eat all the White One'sss mousssesss, but I forgotsss how long it wasss, and after going through the Cold Ssstone Placesss, and almossst getting my tail sssquashed by all the peoplesss I tried to hide from, I finally made it to the Ssstairsss that Move, but I could not get in, ssso I tried to ssslide through the rat hole, but it wasss too sssmall on the other ssside where I could not sssee it, ssso I got ssstuck and the Big Red Bird, who hasss very sharp clawsss, tried to helpsss me, but he almossst broke my back, and when he talked to the people hanging on the wallsss, the Pointy Faced One left to get the White One although he sssaid he did not know 'when' the White One wasss (and I remembered that becaussse it was sssuch a ssstrange thing to sssay). While I wasss waiting for the White One to return, the Big Red Bird caught on fire and, sssomehow, a sssmall baby bird (jussst the right sssize for a light sssnack) showed up and while I wondered how I could get it becaussse I wasss VERY hungry the ssstupid cat attacked my outssside half (and I am sssorry for the sssmelly messs I made for the White One) but she bitesss me and it hurt and after I knocked her off the ssstairsss with my tail (and I don't care if she got hurt) the White One came. He healed me, and after we waited for a while, he talked to the Hairless One and the Loud One, who went away, and jussst asss I was about to eatsss the moussse on hisss desssk, the White One told me I could not, ssso he brought me back here through thisss big black place with ssstarsss, then we found a rat, and after I ate it, I fell asssleep._

Almost dizzy with the telling, Harry commented wryly, _I did not know you could hisss and breathe at the sssame time._

Smug, Horatio said, _It is a skill necesssary to tell Tailsss._

_A very Long Tail,_ Harry said dryly.

_Oh, no. That wasss very short--the Tail of the Firssst Nessst--now **that** isss a Long Tail._

Harry blinked. Obviously it was something he should not pursue at this time if he ever wanted to finish. _You were very brave, Horatio. I owesss you a Life Debt._

_You are mossst welcome, Massster's mate, but you owesss me nothing--I was only protecting our Nessst. Did you get the Yellow Sssquare from the White One?_

_Yesss, he gave it to me and told me you were a hero._

_I am very happy you got it--I thought it was important becaussse the Massster left it for you and took a long time to make it. Now perhapsss you will not yell at each other._

All this because Horatio had not wanted them to argue? _I did not get it until later becaussse I wasss with your Massster. He hasss been hurt and isss in the Healing Place._

Horatio bobbed in distress. _Will he be well?_

_I think ssso, although he will be late for the ceremony thisss evening._

Horatio pulled his head back, puzzled. _Ceremony? What isss thisss ceremony?_

Well, this was not going to be an easy one. How best to explain to a snake the idea of a wedding? Harry thought about it a moment and then hissed slowly, _The ceremony is a time when your Massster and I will gather with all the People of our Nessst and promissse to be life-matesss._

_??? I do not understandsss thisss notion of a 'ceremony'. Are you not already life-matesss? You have twined, you have mated, you did not eat each other. What more isss there?_

And that, as they say, was that. Harry smiled, thinking his life would be so much simpler if he could only see things through the eyes of a snake, although he suspected his and Severus' definition of 'eating each other' was distinctly different than Horatio's.

Their. Would there be a 'their'? No, Severus _would_ be all right, he _had_ to keep believing it--assuming, of course, Quiesta was successful in healing him. He looked over at the snake expecting to see his normal bright eyes, but instead his tongue tested the air with sharp jabs as if he was smelling something unusual. _What are you not telling me about the Massster? You tassste uncertain. You are not sssure the Massster will be well?_

Harry temporized with, _The headmassster sssaysss he will be fine._

Horatio, still enamoured of the headmaster, commented as Harry began to bathe, _The White One isss very kind and gentle._

_Mossst of the time, but sssometimesss he isss very sssneaky and ssspeaksss with three forksss,_ Harry said, lathering up.

Horatio nudged his ear to get his attention. Harry ignored him, scrubbing his face. _I think you have judged the weather wrong. He doesss not sssmell that way. He tassstesss of honesssty and sssummer fruit._

Snorting bubbles, Harry said, _He isss, until you want sssomething from him he doesss not want to show._

_I am confusssed. Why would you want sssomething from an Elder he doesss not want to give you?_ Horatio's voice held censure.

Good question. Why did he want it and how would explain it all? _I want becaussse I need._

Swaying in distress, Horatio struggled to understand. _Now you tassste like the tenssse time before a Warm Ssseassson rain when the light flashesss in the sssky. You are angry with him? Doesss he do thisss in every ssseassson?_

_No. Mossst of the time, when he will not tell me thingsss, I let it fly with the wind, but today I needed to know becaussse my mate isss hurt and I thought I needed it to help him. And he would not give it to me._

Horatio mused on this a minute and finally said, _It isss true I sssee a rat differently when I'm hungry than when I'm not--isss thisss what you mean?_

_Clossse enough._

_Ssso you tell the White One your sssecretsss?_

Harry was startled by the question. _No, I sssuppossse I do not._

_Do you and your mate share sssecretsss?_

_No, not alwaysss._

_Then I do not underssstand. Why wouldsss you asssk more of the White One than you would of your own mate?_

_I do not like sssecretsss when I need to know. Severusss' sssilence I underssstand._

_But sssecretsss are good. It isss the way of the People to hide thingsss--how elssse do you sssurvive? One doesss not reveal where the Nessst isss hidden ssso the eggsss are sssafe. It isss not alwaysss prudent to share knowledge. Sssome thingsss one already knowsss, sssome things one mussst find on one'sss own, sssome thingsss are bessst not known, and sssome thingsss are never known. Isss that not the way of the humansss?_

There was quite a bit of truth in such simple statements. He thought back to what he'd witnessed in the infirmary. _You know, Horatio, I think you may be right,_ Harry said finally, placing a soap covered finger on the end of Horatio's nose.

The forked tongue came out and licked the small bubbles off. _Mmmm. Tassstesss of sssage and wood, but it isss very bitter._ He flicked his tongue several times in the air. _You tasssted bitter, too, but your sssmell hasss changed. It isss sssweeter with lesss sssalt. Do you feel better yet?_ he asked querulously.

Harry dunked and rinsed. Coming back up, he said, _Yesss, I believe I do. Thank you again, oh wissse one. First you sssaved my life, then you sssaved the Yellow Sssquare, and now you may have sssaved a friendship. Not bad for a day'sss hunt._

Horatio bobbed in pleasure and moved nearer the mat when Harry hoisted himself up on the ledge. As he got out of the water, standing on the edge, a splash followed in his wake, dousing the rapidly retreating snake. _Hey! I am not dirty. Now I am wet. Thisss will not do!_ With a movement faster than Harry could follow, Horatio whipped his tail around Harry's ankle and pulled sharply. With a yell and a huge splash, Harry fell back into the water. As he came up sputtering, he could hear suspiciously smug snake sounds fading away from him as Horatio said, _Na Na Na NA na,_ while he hid deep in the foliage around the pool.

With a mock growl, Harry called out to the room at large, _You have to come out sssometime, Horatio, and when you do..._

Yes, he was definitely hearing the equivalent of snake laughter. _Oh, I am ssso ssscared. I have fed. I can wait here longer than you can. **You** have to go to your 'ceremony'. Ssso go._

Harry muttered, _I will. When the White One letsss me and my mate isss healed._

Off to the side he could see a snake head poke out from under a philodendron leaf, the tongue flicking in and out in agitation. He was about to go after the prankster, but stopped when he heard the plaintive, _The Massster will be well, won't he, Harry?_

How could he get even now? He climbed back out of the pool and walked the edge over to Horatio and, sitting on his haunches, he held out his arm. Horatio climbed up and around, settling evenly on Harry's shoulders, his head extended to the fore and turned so they were eye to eye. _Your Massster will return to the Nessst, Horatio._

Horatio bobbed his head in response and flicked Harry's nose with his tongue like he always did Severus. Harry chuckled at the gesture, one always given with affection. _Do you wish to come with me or ssstay?_

_Ssstay. It isss warm in here; the other Placesss are too cold._ As Harry nodded, Horatio slid off his body and slithered over to the tatami mat Severus always used to cool off. He coiled on the mat just under a leaf hanging over the edge.

Harry understood and left him to his own devices.

* * *

TBC


	25. Part II : Mind Over Matter

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Twenty Five : Mind Over Matter**

**25 October 2003** (Continued)

**6:45 pm**

Tying his dressing gown on, Harry left the steamy heat of the bath. Back in their bedchamber, he opened his wardrobe and pulled out the robes he would wear tonight, the same ones bought for the Handfasting. He laid the navy outer robe and sea blue inner robe on the bed and went back to his dresser. Rummaging in the top drawer, he pulled out a pair of socks Dobby said Blinky had made for the occasion, dark blue with golden stars. He chuckled, imagining the whimsical footwear under such formal robes. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled them on, raising his feet off the floor to wiggle his toes against the soft knitting. He did so like nice socks. Standing, he quickly shed the dressing gown and pulled on the inner robe against the chill in the room. Horatio was right--the room was cold. Absently, he enlarged the small fire always burning in the grate and lit the candles.

Going back to the wardrobe, he opened Severus' side. Feeling a bit odd, yet compelled, he gathered Severus' working robes in his hands, his fingers crushing the smooth fabric, the scents of potions that could never be completely washed out and herbs and _him_ filling the air. He refused the urge to bury his face in them, but still, reluctantly released the folds back into the wardrobe. With a forced sense of confidence, he reached in and pulled out Severus' formal robes, both on one hanger. He carried them over to the bed and carefully laid them out next to his own. Smoothing the rich, heavy fabric, he impulsively extended the sleeve of his own robe out slightly and laid the sleeve of Severus' on top of it. He shook his head at such a sentimental display; Severus would give him hell over it if he ever found out. But he didn't move it.

Back in the sitting room, he briefly debated calling for some supper, but decided food would sit like lead in his stomach. He could eat later. Restless, he paced through the apartment, stopping here to straighten a book on the shelf, moving there to idly pick up one of the dozens of little pieces of bric-a-brac that measured their lives together. After a few minutes of it, he sighed in disgust, making himself go back to the window seat he'd abandoned earlier. He knew he was avoiding making contact again, fearing that instead of Quiesta's block, he would find nothing but desolate emptiness.

But that was just stupid. The _Sanos_ had been sounding off and on the entire time he'd bathed and dressed. It _had_ been silent for some time now, but taking a break during difficult work was considered good practice if one did not want to exhaust both practitioner and patient. Settling into the cushions, his back against the stone, he closed his eyes and concentrated. He blew a heavy sigh of relief; he was blocked.

Inevitably, his thoughts ran to what Albus wanted him to figure out on his own.

_...Perhaps you should think on today and how it relates to the past..._

He stepped back calmly, knowing anger could warp his perceptions as much as love. Perhaps Albus was able to step away from both to see the true situation. Perhaps he needed to do this as well. This led him in turn to think about all the day's happenings, not as events, but as milestones--whether he was directly involved or not.

The note. He felt profound relief that Severus had left him the note, especially since it had concerned private Order business, retirement or no. He'd been so certain this morning that Severus had broken their agreement.

_...You know how private he is sometimes..._

Yes, indeed he could be. Odd though, Albus saying it when he did. So, was it significant? The note, or the privacy. Perhaps both?

He had to admit his actions this afternoon with Dobby at Malfoy Manor had not brought the satisfaction he'd craved; rather, it had created more questions when he'd _seen_ for himself the extent of his lover's pain, although he was still astounded he'd been able to reach him in the first place.

_...Circumstance has a way of changing things..._

While it was obvious there was much Albus was not telling him, Harry was convinced that even if Albus had not planned it, he had at least let it happen. Why?

Something Horatio had said also struck a chord. _It isss not alwaysss prudent to share knowledge._ Horatio was right--sometimes one _did_ have to find it on one's own. There had to be a reason--something vital he was missing.

Sitting up, his eyes popping open, he wondered if it had anything to do with the glyph. What was it he'd done to make it reach out to Severus the way it had, allowing him to help him? And why now? Was it because he'd been desperate?

Desperation. His or Severus'? Both?

_...You know how private he is sometimes..._

He recalled in detail what he'd done when he'd returned to his quarters and suddenly realised he'd _changed_ the nature of the ward's protection. Had given it a new purpose. A shudder ran through him. Now he was frightened, not of the situation, but of himself, because unknowingly, he'd changed the very _magic_ of the glyph.

How? Not enough, Harry.

_...I am keeping a certain distance between the two of you..._

Why? Wrong question, Harry. Why now?

_...I wish there had been some other way or time to do this..._

Do what? On the eve of our wedding.

_...You know how private he is sometimes..._

Our wedding... our _binding_!

Harry closed his eyes. He was close, he could feel it.

_...Severus' very life is at stake..._

Could he have harmed him? The _Sanos_ only killed with hateful intent; it should be obvious he didn't hate Severus. However, there were other ways to hurt someone. Had he caused the surges of pain Severus had experienced? Out of concern? Out of ignorance?

_...You know how private he is sometimes..._

Dumbledore's convinced it will work out.

Why? Almost there, Harry.

_...Follow the line..._

The unfathomable blue eyes had stared at him significantly over the half-moon spectacles.

_...Ah, there! You have him. Feel better now?..._

And then it hit him. What Albus wanted him to find on his own. The clues had been there all the time, he'd just been blinded by emotion and his own fears. So incongruent when he'd said it, but it explained so much.

_...You Know How Private He Is Sometimes..._

Shaking, Harry thought, _'With my desperation to connect, I bridged the personal and distance barriers between us. The despair Lucius caused stripped Severus' reserve bare. I'm able to see Severus and feel him at the same time because I changed the glyph bearing our wards. Severus dropped the last barricade due to my persistance and the **way** I changed the glyph. Because of it, we **finally** completed the Handfasting bonds woven into our own personal wards. Dear gods, what would have happened had we not?'_

"Beautiful sunset, wasn't it?"

Harry almost fell out of the window seat, knocking his head on the stone; the headmaster was sitting comfortably in a squashy chair not five feet from him. "So much for 'Constant Vigilance'," Harry muttered, rubbing the back of his head as he righted himself back against the wall.

Dumbledore chuckled. "You were concentrating, and I didn't want to disturb you."

Harry raised a brow at that statement, but let it pass. "Quiesta began healing Severus a while ago. It seems to be going well."

"So you've been able to follow his progress?" Albus asked, his eyes soft over his spectacles.

"After a fashion. I've been able to see him fairly well. But read him? Not so much--the first time was only for a few seconds. After you gave him the _Ipsemet_ Potion, I think I could have, but by then I was blocking him because I hurt him the first time around when I sent him an image. I was afraid I'd hurt him again if I didn't block him and later I was proven right. When Quiesta started working, I had to drop the block to talk her out of her course of action; Severus was aware of my presence, but he was so agitated, Quiesta put him to sleep and kicked me out, but not before we stole a few moments together." He chuckled. "Though I _have_ been able to follow the _Sanos_ from here. I don't want to hurt him again, so I have not really tried to reestablish the connection."

"You didn't hurt him in the first place. The curse did when you disturbed it; he was in pain from the moment he woke. However, I am glad you were able to _touch_ him a bit and see him receive your wedding gift. I'm sorry we had to use it so soon."

"It couldn't be helped. I'm just thankful you thought to use it in that manner. And it seemed to work. Good to know I didn't bollix it," he finished with a short laugh. "Tell me--I can't hear anything when I'm there. What were his first words?"

"He wanted to know where the hippogriff was," Albus said, chuckling, Harry joining him after a moment. "But he _knew_ you were there because he called your name when he sat up."

Harry nodded absently. "Thanks, I was just wondering." He looked out the window. "Will they get done in time?"

Albus replied honestly, "Probably not. Quiesta thinks she can get finished at the time the wedding was to have started, but then they will still need to get him and themselves ready before they can walk to the Room of Requirement. I'm thinking we'll most likely be ready to begin at 8:30 instead of 8:00 as planned." At Harry's questioning eyes, he commented, "And no, the late start will not disturb the portents of the date."

Harry nodded, saying, "Good, I would hate to have gone through all of this for nothing."

Albus said quietly, "For nothing? Do you truly believe that now?"

Shaking his head, he replied, "No. I think I understand. It's because of the glyph and Severus' barriers, isn't it?" When Albus sighed in relief, Harry asked, "Couldn't you just have told us instead of making Severus suffer through all this? I truly don't understand why you had to hide it."

Dumbledore regarded him seriously, answering the question with one of his own. "Have you ever had to make an illness worse in order to heal it?"

Harry nodded and shrugged; it happened sometimes, not often, but enough for him to comprehend what the headmaster was asking.

"I had to do the same."

"Why?"

"If I had come to you and said, 'Harry, your bonds will fail because you fear uncontrolled magic, and Severus can't let go,' what would you have done? Had I told you beforehand, would you have feared it less?"

The pieces fell into place. Damn him! Albus was right--they would never have been able to resolve it on their own.

Albus always could read him like a cheap novel. "Unfortunately, you _both_ faced formidable obstacles. Severus resisted surrendering the last piece of himself, even to you, and you had yet to purposely use your magic. While I have no doubt _you_ would have eventually learned the method on your own, there was still Severus' obstacle to eliminate. If I'd let you bind with Severus still closed, you would have killed him when you found the magic on your own."

Harry sat up, giving him his full attention, whispering, "How do you know this?"

Albus stared off sadly into the distance. "I _know_ because I wield the same magic. Poppy is not my first wife. I was a little younger than you when I made vows with Liselle--beautiful girl, so sweet. Several months afterwards, I accidentally discovered the same magic you did this afternoon and--she died. Painfully. Because of our bonds. Because, like Severus', there were barriers I didn't know about, didn't know I _needed_ to know about. Later, I had studied it enough to protect Poppy from the effects, but she is not as strong magically as you and Severus nor did we bear the additional ties the two of you do; for us it was simple."

Harry did the math. Albus had gone over two of his lifetimes without a mate because of this. "I'm sorry, Albus," he said sincerely.

Dumbledore waved his hand. "I have had so many good years with Poppy, I hardly ever think of Liselle, which I suppose is a shame as I am one of the last who remember her."

Harry shook his head. "Not forgotten now. I'll remember her. After all, in a way, she saved Poppy's and Severus' lives."

Albus smiled sweetly, and Harry felt at peace with him for the first time all day. But he still had questions and he knew his time with the headmaster was growing short. "You said you wield the same magic. What type of magic are you speaking of?"

"Ah, Harry, it is most unfortunate; I cannot tell you _that_ until you figure out what exactly you did. But I can tell you this: both you and Severus already tap into it in your own ways, but only you will be able to wield it with purpose. I sensed the magic in you years ago, but you weren't ready to learn it. You are now and, with the barriers gone, you can bind without fear of harming each other."

Surprisingly, he didn't mind Albus' reticence. Almost overwhelmed, Harry said, "You leave me much to think on. You're right, I only know I did something but not what. For now, I have a more immediate questions--like why was Poppy so angry over the _Infensus Curatio Potion_?"

Dumbledore shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. "She was upset over 'when' I made it. There are ways, beyond the Time Turners, to--expand--time; since it is not--safe--she takes exception whenever I do so."

Harry rolled it around. Some fragments of things Horatio had said popped into his head: _...he sssaid he did not know 'when' the White One wasss... he brought me back here through thisss big black place with ssstarsss..._ It had to be. "The Orrery," Harry stated flatly.

Fumbling in his pocket, Albus nodded his head, saying, "Precisely."

Harry watched him closely, noting his growing paleness and the dose of _Digitalus_ he didn't try to hide. Wordlessly, Harry climbed out of the window seat and went into his study. Opening a locked cabinet, he pulled out a small cup and a bottle of potion Severus had finished after much experimentation only three days before, one Harry had meant to give Albus this afternoon, but had forgot in all the excitement. Chagrined at his lapse, he reentered the sitting room and calmly handed the two items to the headmaster, saying dryly, "Well, it's never a good idea to make Poppy upset. This is a new potion, _Navitas_, Severus finished a few days ago that should help restore your energy when you've done too much and hopefully will reduce the number of _Digitalus_ you have to take. Do NOT exceed more than one dose per day. If you are still tired after taking it, I strongly suggest a nap. Healer's orders," he finished, chuckling.

Dumbledore pocketed the potion. With a smile he said, "Thank you, Harry. I will save it for later; I have one more task to complete after I leave here and I assure you, I will need it more then than now." While Harry was curious what it was that could make the headmaster more tired than he already looked, he forbore to question him on it.

Albus nodded his understanding of Harry's restraint, saying, "I am sorry, but I must leave. I am sure you will think of more questions for me. Perhaps we can talk more when I see Severus tomorrow."

"Severus? Tomorrow? When? Why?"

Laughing, Albus said, "See, I _knew_ you weren't through yet. I have something of Severus' I am keeping safe for him; he said he will fetch it from me then."

Dumbledore stood from the chair, dismissing it back into the ether. He embraced Harry silently and then, arm in arm with his young friend, made his slow way to the door, his drooping shoulders showing his age. "Arthur will be along shortly to escort you to the waiting place. I will see you then, my boy."

Harry studied the old man's face for a long moment and, bending slightly, kissed his cheek, the action one of love and forgiveness.

"Thank you," Albus said simply while Harry opened the door for him.

Shutting it softly behind him, Harry went back into the sitting room, raised the small fire in the hearth and, listening carefully to the _Sanos_ which had just resumed, settled into Severus' chair to wait.

* * *

**7:25 pm**

Dobby went to Harry on foot. While it would have been easier, not to mention quicker, to Apparate to Harry, Poppy had told him before he'd left the infimary that there were wards up against it. Not that Dobby minded; the walk gave him much-needed time to think on the many impressions running through his head, because Dobby had a problem.

He had stepped over a forbidden line today as he'd been so adroitly reminded by Mendley after the old healer had repaired his injuries. He'd let a human know he could kill. Had used the words 'Old Ones' and 'Death Eater' in the same context. And worst of all, he'd said "I", thereby letting a human know he was separate, an individual capable of independent thought and independent decision. His freedom was bad enough in the eyes of his fellow house-elves, but he'd breached an unspoken covenant between them with what he had done at Malfoy Manor.

And all because of his devotion to one human.

Dobby had tried to tell Mendley that Harry was not like the others, that he would be discreet. Mendley had not cared about discretion. No, he feared that once Harry knew, Snape would surely know, and because of that knowledge they, the house-elves, would be drawn into a battle not of their own choosing. Dobby didn't know why this was so frightening, but he supposed the Elder house-elf probably knew far more than he himself did--after all he did _see_ things the others didn't. As Mendley had scolded, they'd worked for centuries, beyond the memories of the humans, to separate themselves from the Death Eaters; Dobby may have jeopardised all the suffering and sacrifice that entailed for the sake of one moment of self-satisfaction. No, as far as Mendley was concerned, it would have been better had Dobby died as well or, even better, if Maldy were still alive, the deed undone.

And _here_ was where Dobby had his problem. He disagreed. Certainly not unheard of among the house-elves, but on such a fundamental level, virtually unknown; house-elves had their code and they stuck to it. But he couldn't help thinking the world was a much better place without the ancient Death Eater. Any Death Eater for that matter. For Dobby was an 'Old One' himself as were Mendley and Blinky and all the house-elves at Hogwarts.

Before he'd started his trek to Harry, he'd quickly Apparated over to Hogsmeade to see Blinky to let her know he was fine (all house-elf rumours to the contrary), to tell her of Harry's offer to bring her into Hogwarts, and subsequently, to ask her to be his. He smiled thinking of her enthusiastic response and only regretted he'd had to leave before he could take full part in her open joy. Instead, he'd left her with much to contemplate; she'd never once thought of her freedom and didn't know if this was what _she_ wanted, but she would do it to please him if he wished.

He didn't wish. He wasn't quite sure she'd believed him when he told her it had to be _her_ choice, and it would make no difference to him if she chose to stay as she was. That nothing truly mattered as long as she was with him where he could protect her. To the house-elves of Hogwarts, with the latitude they were given, 'servitude' to Headmaster Dumbledore was almost the same as freedom elsewhere. He was as kind a master as Harry.

Harry. Now he had to figure out how to answer the questions Harry was sure to ask. By the time he reached the door of Harry's quarters, he still didn't know what to do. But, as Dumbledore was always so fond of saying, he would follow his heart and see where it led him.

He patiently waited for the wards to chime his arrival. When Harry opened the door with a muttered, "Finally learned to use the door, old man?" his mouth fell open in surprise when he saw Dobby waiting on the other side. With a wild whoop and a "Dobby! You're all right!" he bent down and embraced the house-elf, swinging him around in big circles in the sitting room. A little dizzy, Dobby assumed this meant Harry was happy to see him, but he didn't think he'd ever seen a human do this before. No, in fact, he was sure of it.

Eventually Harry put him down, laughing, his eyes shining. "Sit, sit, Dobby," he said, pulling a chair out from the dining table. Harry was considerate in this manner and usually remembered Dobby didn't like the soft human chairs. He always felt he was going to be swallowed whole by some great unknown beast whenever he sat in one. Dobby was glad to see Harry in such good spirits; he supposed the talk with the headmaster had gone well. His thoughts were interrupted when Harry set a glass of water in front of him, his face concerned as he asked, "You _are_ better, right?"

"Dobby is fine, Harry. Healer Mendley took care of Dobby's hurts. Master Harry should not worry about Dobby. Today is Harry's wedding day and Harry should only think of Harry's Professor."

He chuckled. "Oh, I am. Believe me, I am. But I have to admit, it's easy to be distracted with all that's happened today." Harry took a sip of his own water. "I want to thank you for saving my life when you fought Maldy. From what I've heard he was a nasty piece of work and would not have hesitated to kill me." When Dobby said nothing, Harry asked him gently, "Are you _sure_ you're all right? And I don't mean physically. That was a very brave thing you did. I don't know if I'll ever be able to fully express how guilty I feel having put you in a situation where you had to make that sort of decision in the first place."

With quiet dignity Dobby replied simply, "Dobby is glad Dobby was able to help Harry. Dobby would gladly give Dobby's life for Harry's life. Dobby does not feel any guilt taking the life of Maldy. Maldy killed and hurt many elves and humans; Maldy deserved to die."

Harry stared at Dobby, stunned. He breathed, "Wow. That was _not_ what I was expecting. Thank you, Dobby." Pausing, he obviously debated something within himself. "May I ask you a question?" When the house-elf hesitated, Harry hastily added, "Never mind, it's probably none of my business anyway."

Dobby steeled himself; despite the warnings from Mendley, he'd decided he would answer Harry's questions (and he was sure there would be more than one) with The Truth (something house-elves took seriously) if it became necessary. Dobby didn't lie well. "What does Harry want to know?"

"_What_ was Maldy?" Harry asked, his face serious.

Dobby gave it some thought. He raised his hand when Harry was about to speak and was satisfied by the bemused look the human wore as he sat back in his chair and waited. "Maldy was an evil elf," Dobby began slowly then stopped, realising too late that if he were to answer this, he might have to give up the elf-speak if he were to finish anytime tonight. He chuckled low, resigned; it would provide, if nothing else, some amusement to see Harry's face when he did so, although he tried hard not to think of the scolding he would get from Mendley if he ever found out. So he started out with common information and would wait to see where it took him. "Maldy was Dobby's former master Malfoy's former personal house-elf in charge of all the house-elves at Malfoy Manor."

Looking out the window, Harry murmured, "Seems to be my day for incomplete answers, but no matter." He turned his head to look at Dobby, who fought fidgeting under his steady regard. "I suppose that will have to do for now. I suspect by your reluctance that there is much more to this than I think I want to explore tonight," he chuckled wryly, "but don't think this lets you off the hook, Master Dobby."

"Dobby will answer any questions Dobby has answers to that Harry needs to ask," he said solemnly.

Startled, Harry nodded, his face serious. "Thank you, Dobby. I'll remember that." Restless, Harry stood from the chair and, standing at the window a moment, stared out at the evening, dark with the new moon. "Less than an hour to go," Dobby heard him murmur. Glancing back at the apartment, he spoke the command to raise more lights as the room was starting to get gloomy. "Sorry, can't seem to sit still right now. Tell me, did you just get out of the infirmary when you came by?" Harry asked him, returning to the table.

Dobby looked away sheepishly as he said, "Dobby does not want Harry to think Dobby only came to see Harry because Madam Pomfrey asked Dobby to pick up the Professor's dress robes."

To Dobby's surprise, Harry laughed. "Ah, another one roped in for a 'Harry' errand. I'm becoming inured to his machinations in keeping me here. First Remus, then Dumbledore, now you. I wonder who's next?" When Dobby blinked, Harry continued, "Oh, it's all right, Dobby. I know you would have come on your own regardless." He raised a brow. "I was just wondering if you made a 'detour' before coming here? I know I would have."

It took Dobby a few seconds to process what Harry had said. Ah, now he understood. "Yes, Dobby went to see Blinky before coming to see Harry."

"And..."

Continuing a game he and Harry had been playing for years, Dobby replied, "Blinky said good, yes, yes, and maybe to Dobby."

Getting into it, Harry rubbed his chin, to all appearances thinking hard, when Dobby knew, in reality, he'd already guessed most of it. "Hmm. Let me see... 'Good' that you're well?" Dobby nodded. "'Yes, she'd be willing to move and change masters?" Dobby smiled. "'Yes' that she's accepted your proposal?" Dobby grinned. "And 'maybe' because she's not sure she wants freedom?" Dobby nodded again. "Dobby, that's wonderful! We'll start working on it as soon as I get back from my honeymoon..." Harry stopped and looked thoughtful a moment.

"Harry will have a honeymoon with his Professor, Dobby is certain of that," he said quietly.

Harry sighed, saying, "I'm sure you're right, but here it is almost the time we're due to start and I can sense they're still healing him." He chuckled grimly. "Although Quiesta is having a little problem no one could have foreseen, but I admit, she's doing an admirable job working her way around it."

"Dobby should go so Harry can listen to his Professor. Dobby just needs to get the Professor's robes to Madam Pomfrey on time."

As if he'd already joined Severus, Harry said distractedly, "You're probably right. Let me go get them for you."

Dobby held up his hand to stop his 'master'. "No, Harry, Dobby knows where the Professor's robes are. Harry should stay with his Professor while Dobby gets the robes and leaves."

Harry nodded, his eyes focusing on the house-elf and showing his gratitude. "Thank you, Dobby, for--well, for everything."

"Harry is most welcome," Dobby said, moving off towards the bedchamber. He quickly found the robes laid out on the bed next to Harry's as he'd expected; what else was Harry to do with his time alone? He snapped his fingers, shrinking the robes down to a manageable size and carefully placed them in the pocket of a new set of robes he'd bought with his wages just last week; Madame Malkin was very kind to him, unlike some of the other merchants in Diagon Alley. He checked around the room, cleaning it with another snap of his fingers and then, in a burst of affection for Harry, he cast a spell, timed to activate after Harry left, that would prepare the chamber for their wedding night. He almost wished he could see their faces when they got back, but then again it was probably for the best--he'd seen enough of humans and their strange mating habits from his stint with the Malfoys to last an elf's lifetime.

Quietly, he tiptoed out of the bedchamber into the sitting room. As he'd thought, Harry was back in the window seat, his face turned to the now open window, his eyes closed in utter concentration as a chill October breeze floated past him. Dobby knew Harry loved his Professor very much and that, all appearances to the side, Professor Snape loved his Harry as well. Dobby could tell these things and thought it fine that Professor Snape, whom he'd always admired from the side, had finally found someone for himself, just like Dobby had with Blinky. Not that he thought Harry was like a girl--not hardly, but there was a softness, a compassion about him that was 'different' than the 'unbending' he often observed from the Potions master whenever his Harry was around.

Walking softly to the door, Dobby took one last look at the man who had given him so much, and opening it, he disappeared into the evening, Harry none the wiser.

* * *

TBC


	26. Part II : It Was Almost Time

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Twenty Six : It Was Almost _Time_**

**6:45 pm**

_'Poofter?'_ Well, this was certainly new.

Shaking her head in resignation at Albus' hasty departure, Poppy turned to confront Carlotta, who was standing with her hands on her hips, shaking her head as she muttered, "I did NOT just say that. No, no, no. No, did not say it. The words never left my mouth."

"Say what, Carlotta?" 'Popples' asked her sweetly.

Eyes narrowing, then relaxing, Quiesta said with some asperity, "All right, so I did; he deserved it, though. I've isolated the curse and contained it, at least _that's_ done. However, he's still experiencing quite a bit of discomfort, but he won't let me in his pain centres. Every single frigging time I even get _near_ one of them, the bloody git throws me out. If I can't fix it, he's never going to last the ceremony."

Well, this certainly was 'different'. "So can I assume from your rather colourful language, you think it has something to do with his, er, _orientation_ and that you're a woman?" Poppy asked, not quite sure she understood--she'd been healing Severus for years without any problems of _that_ nature.

Quiesta had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry about all that. I'm unaccustomed with _anyone_ tossing me out on my ear, let alone a stubborn git who's not even awake. This is the third time I've found myself suddenly on the outside, so I have ask why. And I have to answer, what else could it be? Unless you're going to tell me that he's really a vampire with a clever disguise?"

With the quirk of Poppy's brow and snort of laughter at the fanciful image of the dour Potions master pale in his normal all black attire, fangs extended, Quiesta continued. "I'll take that as a 'no'. All right, we've established he's human--" She hesitated and then scrunched her brow with her fingers, eyes closing as she muttered, "No, Carlotta--you will be good, you will behave--" She took a deep breath and smiled crookedly. "So--as a human it is safe to assume his pain centres are directly linked to his pleasure centres, just like everyone else's, yes?"

When Poppy nodded, smiling, Quiesta went on, "I've never worked on _Severus_ before, but I have healed a few gay men in my time, and while I have never had any problems with this, I _have_ heard of some women who have. I suspect any healers he's had in the past have all been men. While he wasn't exactly 'cordial', if you will, when I worked on the curse, he was never downright hostile about it either. Whatever the reason, he has a strong aversion to _me_ mucking about with his pain/pleasure centres and I need to find a work-around or we'll be floating him to his wedding."

Once again, Poppy bit back a laugh at the image _that_ provoked. "Perhaps you should act like a man," she said reasonably. "Shouldn't be too difficult. Just blunder in there, make a beeline for the centres like you owned them, and if that doesn't work, you can always spit."

Quiesta stared at her like she'd grown a third eye and then her head tipped back with her laughter. "Oh, Poppy! That was priceless. So what would I use for the spittoon?"

"I don't know, pick one--there are any number of useful orifices and ducts in the human body; I'm sure one of them would suffice," she replied drolly.

Her eyes shining with amusement, Quiesta said, "Hmmm. I think you're onto something here. Let me see..." and soon she was lost in thought. Several minutes later, she raised her head, and placing her fingers back on Severus' temples, started her one-sided conversation again. "All right, if you won't take a woman, how about a--? ... No? ... Damn it, Severus! How the hell am I supposed to--hey what? Wait a minute ... liked _that_ did you? ... All right, let's see--ahh--so that's how it is--you want _him_ and not-- ... All right, I think I can do this--ready or not, here he comes..."

In Poppy's experience, every healer had idiosyncrasies while they healed. Most of the time it was quite unconscious; they were hardly aware they did it. Some muttered to themselves. Jed, the healer in Hogsmeade, had a mantra that was quite annoying. Harry, well, he hadn't developed any yet that she knew of, but Poppy was sure he would; he hadn't been at it _that_ long.

And Quiesta? She was a talker, but sometimes, when the work was especially challenging, she sang softly while she worked, which was funny considering she couldn't hold a tune in a bucket. The monotone song, usually quite outrageous, always wove in and out of the notes of the _Sanos_ whenever she was near being finished. Tonight was no exception and when Poppy heard her start up, she immediately recognized the words to an old Celtic ballad. But it was different; instead of the bawdy words they'd been expecting, these new ones were soft and sweet and with them, Poppy suddenly realised--the songs weren't for Quiesta, but for her patients, what _they_ needed. Sobered, Poppy used a Quick-Quotes Quill and parchment she'd picked up earlier from a bedside drawer to record the words for Albus.

"_I must away now, I can no longer tarry  
This morning's tempest I have to cross  
I must be guided without a stumble  
Into the arms I love the most._

_And when he had come to his true lover's dwelling  
He knelt down gently upon a stone  
And through the window he whispered lowly  
Is my true love within at home?_

_Wake up, wake up love, it is thine own true lover  
Wake up, wake up love, and let me in  
For I am tired, love, and oh, so weary  
And more than near drenched to the skin._

_He raised his head up from his downy soft pillow  
He raised him up and he let him in  
And they were locked fast in each others' arms  
Till that long night was past and gone._

_And when that long night was past and over  
And when the small clouds began to grow  
Taking his lover's hand, they kissed and parted  
Then mounted his horse and away did go._

_I must away now, I can no longer tarry  
This morning's tempest I have to cross  
I must be guided without a stumble  
Into the arms I love the most._"

Quiesta stopped her singing. Her eyes opened, and Poppy smiled at her beaming face as she said jubilantly, "There! All done. You can wake lover boy now."

Well, maybe not so outrageous after all. Poppy was about to start her spells when Dobby arrived with a loud 'pop'. "Is Dobby too late? Dobby has Professor Snape's robes."

"You're just in time, Dobby. I was about to wake him," Poppy said with a smile. "How's Harry holding up?"

Dobby laid the robes behind her on the other bed after enlarging them, setting boots with socks to the side. "Master Harry is distracted," he said, smoothing the small wrinkles out. "Harry was listening so hard to something when Dobby left, Harry did not hear Dobby leave."

"Hmmm. Must have been the _Sanos_," Quiesta mused, "I was blocking him for the rest of it. You know, Poppy, some day we'll figure out just where that boy has limits," she commented, shaking her head.

"Or that he has none," Poppy remarked. She turned to Dobby, momentarily forgot in the exchange. "Thank you, Dobby. The headmaster will want to speak to you tomorrow, but for now--go, rest. I daresay you've earned it."

"If Madam Pomfrey is certain, Dobby will go." At her nod, he bowed to them both, and with a snap of his fingers was gone.

Poppy raised her wand over Severus, first casting a series of cleaning spells to wash away all the grime of the day. His skin almost pink, his hair shiny, she then cast the spell to wake him. He woke abruptly, his eyes wide open, looking all around him. With a groan he tried to sit up, and it took both Poppy and Quiesta, one on each side, to get him sitting at least somewhat comfortably. Poppy immediately set about casting her diagnostic spells again.

"Well, it looks like you'll live," Quiesta commented dryly.

Hoarse, Severus asked, "Why are you here?" Taking the glass of cool water she handed him, he drank it down greedily. He looked thoughtful, then said, "I remember now. I'm sorry you came so early for nothing, Carlotta. It seems I won't be able to talk to you about that Owl I sent you after all."

As Quiesta took the glass back, Poppy replied, "I think that is the least of our concerns right now." She reached over to the bedside table and picked up a bottle of his _Infensus Curatio Potion_. Opening it, she handed it to him, saying, "Here take this; it should help with your headache."

Severus eyed it strangely, but without question, downed the entire contents, Poppy's and Quiesta's hands hovering behind his shoulders ready to support him should he tip back. With a moue of distaste, he thrust the bottle back at her. Clearing his throat several times, he finally managed to croak out, "Strange choice of potion, Poppy. Why was it necessary?"

"Not now, Severus. Later. We have to get you ready--it's past time," Poppy said kindly as she helped Severus swing his legs over the side of the bed. With a wince, he stood, sagging into their support, the two women gripping his upper arms to help him balance.

His eyes widened when he glanced at the clock. Determined, he tried to straighten his legs with only partial success. "Weak as a new kitten," he mumbled, "this just won't do."

Freeing one hand, Poppy rummaged in her pocket. "Here, Carlotta," she said, handing her a vial with a clear amber liquid. When Quiesta took it from her with a nod and a quiet 'thanks', Poppy addressed Severus. "How much of today do you remember?"

Severus watched Quiesta down the restorative with a puzzled frown, saying dryly, "Obviously not enough." He shook his head. "I remember leaving with Remus, going to the pub, chasing a rat, and waking at Malfoy Manor. It gets a bit fuzzy after that, but I definitely recall waking up here once and then not much more. He nodded his chin at Quiesta. "However, if _she_ healed me, that explains the nightmare from which I just woke."

With a dry chuckle, Poppy exclaimed, "Severus! Where are your manners? And after she made you such a nice song, too."

Sliding his eyes over to Quiesta, he said slowly, "You worked on me long enough to make up a song? That's disturbing." He looked down at himself. "And it seems to me that my manners are in the same place as my clothes." With a twist of his lips, he continued, "Ladies, while I'm sure you find the situation, ahem, quite scintillating, would it be in the realm of possibility that I could have my clothes now?"

"Oh, will you listen to him! Such conceit," Quiesta said to Poppy. "Certainly Severus," she continued in a sugary voice, "we'll 'help' you get dressed, won't we Poppy?"

Severus grimaced at the saucy wink Poppy gave her in return. "Indeed," she said quietly, picking up his inner robe from the bed.

Quiesta eyed the other clothes and then Severus from tip to toe. With a sly sideways smile, she said, "Well, it appears you're going to go 'traditional', Severus. We've no skivvies for you."

She held out the robe behind him while Poppy ordered, "Stick out your arm."

Severus tried to turn his head around to see what they were up to. "What? Is this truly necessary? Can't you just spell them on me?"

"Not hardly," she retorted, "we can't use too much magic so close to the wedding, you know that."

"Very well," he grumbled, putting his arms behind him stiffly. "At least the potion seems to be working." Poppy clicked her tongue, and guided his arm into the sleeve. He hissed as tender skin met heavy silk. "Ow! Damn it, woman--watch it! "

"With all his bitching, he must be feeling better." Quiesta said drolly, trying to get his arm through the other sleeve of his inner robe while Poppy worked on her side.

Sighing heavily, Severus snarled, "I am NOT being 'bitchy'. Where did you get your bedside manner? From sandpaper?"

"Ooooh, can't the ickle man take a little pain?" Quiesta cooed in a baby voice while Poppy bit her lip to keep from laughing outright.

"Hmph. I see why you teach and not practice." When he failed to get a rise out of the Healer, he went on, "And why your patients all end up unconscious." She pulled his arm through and cast a small spell to keep the robe from slipping, yet would hold the fabric off of his freshly healed wounds.

"There you go, all done. Ickle Sevvie is all ready to go on this side." When he threw her a murderous glare, she chuckled wickedly, asking, "Poppy? You need a little help over there? I'd be more than happy to dress the dolly on that side."

Poppy stopped and stared and burst out laughing. "I'm fine over here, but you need to button him up, dear." She chuckled as Severus pulled back as far as he could inside the robes to avoid Carlotta's nimble fingers as she closed the frogs running from hem to throat. Snorting, Poppy said, "Some 'dolly'. While he's bendable, he's not biddable." She reached over and plucked the outer robe from the bed, handing one side to Quiesta.

Quiesta continued the harangue while threading Severus' arm through the sleeve. "Posable," she huffed, struggling to get the fabric covered arm through the sleeve without twisting it, "but not flexible."

"No, he's not, is he?" Poppy replied, working the fabric of the outer robe over the inner like a stocking. Once in place, she smoothed the silk down, tugging it in places to set the folds right. She tilted her head at Severus, considering him speculatively a moment before saying, "I suspect this is the model for bad mummies. Refuses to cooperate and cries all the time. Probably wets the bed, too." Her eyes raked him from head to foot. "Not badly made, though, quite well formed, actually. Takes a lot of abuse--too bad he doesn't like to play with the girl dollies."

Quiesta studied Severus, smoothing and pulling her side down in the same manner. "Really? Only likes the boy toys?" Laughing at his sputtering, she asked, "Are you sure you don't like the girl dollies, Sevvie? I can think of a few 'uses' for the posability and I suspect getting these clothes off would be a sight easier than getting them on."

Severus looked at her with something akin to horror, for once bereft of words. With his mouth working soundlessly on any number of tempting curses, none of which he could or would use, the two women laughed at his discomfort. Poppy put her hand on his shoulder and made him sit down on the bed. Handing him his socks, she asked jokingly, "Do you think you can manage these?"

To his acute embarrassment, he couldn't bend far enough; he was still too stiff. With a sympathetic shake of her head at odds with her previous teasing, Carlotta took the plain wool socks out of his hand and, sinking to the floor to sit on her knees, she gently hooked one of his feet onto her lap. Without comment, she first put on the sock and then tugged on the boot Poppy wordlessly handed her. Placing his shod foot on the floor, she repeated it on the other side, patting the toe of his boot as she set it down. Standing, she held out her hands, saying, "All right, my man, let's see if we can't get you walking."

With a quiet, "Thanks," Severus gripped her wrists. After wrapping her hands firmly around his wrists, she stepped back a bit to give him the room to use her arms as leverage to stand. Poppy stopped his swaying with a hand on his back, and one step at a time, each subsequent one a little easier, they moved him to a small table near the foot of the far bed. He sat stiffly in the hard chair without assistance and inhaled deeply of the steaming bowl of thin broth waiting there.

"I want you to get as much of that down as you can, Severus," Poppy said in her brisk manner, all joking aside. "Quiesta and I have to get ready as well. If you need anything, Farly will be here to help."

He looked at both women, his gaze steady. Inclining his head, he turned back to the bowl on the table. Quiesta and Poppy smiled indulgently at each other over his head and, after Quiesta tied a large napkin around his neck and gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, moved away together.

He was halfway done with the broth and had just set the spoon aside and taken the napkin off when Quiesta returned alone. She glided over to him and wordlessly stood behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "I need to make one final check to make sure it's holding," she said cryptically. He nodded, but she knew he didn't understand. Placing her fingers on his temples, she dipped quickly in and back out with a sigh of satisfaction. Her hand trailing across his shoulders as she moved around to face him, she kept it there as she said quietly, "I will see you in a few minutes, Severus. Poppy should be out in a minute or so. Is there anything you need?"

"Only an explanation and Harry, and I suspect I am going to have to wait for both," he said dryly, a rare smile on his lips.

Quiesta chuckled. "Ah, nothing then that _I_ can get for you."

"Thank you, Carlotta."

Mimicking his previous nod, she patted his cheek and moved away. He was about to tell her she looked splendid--for a woman, when Poppy startled him from behind. "Carlotta! Didn't anyone tell you you're not supposed to outshine the--well, you know what I mean. That red is lovely on you, dear."

Quiesta made a mock curtsy and smiled. "As do you, Poppy; lavender suits you well."

Severus growled, "Now that the two of you are through admiring each other, can we finally leave?"

"Carlotta certainly can, but you and I have a few more minutes left to go."

Taking the hint, Quiesta made her goodbyes and was soon on her way.

Grudgingly, Severus said quietly, "You do look very nice, Madam Dumbledore."

She shook her head. "A compliment? From you? Now I _know_ you're not feeling well."

Chuckling, he pulled his head back to look at her better. "I'll have you know, I'm quite capable of doing so if the occasion warrants it."

She handed him another potion, this time from a brown bottle. "What? Are you saying I don't warrant it at other times?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

He sniffed the contents cautiously and looked over the ingredients as he said in a distracted voice. "Well, you know what they say about shoes--" Obviously satisfied with the mild pain potion she'd given him, he downed it easily, setting the empty bottle on the table. "Ah, one of my better ones."

Quietly, she held out her hand. As he took it, she asked, "Are you ready?" When he stood, his impatience was almost tangible. Shaking her head and chuckling, she said, "Stupid question, eh?"

Smiling, he embraced her with a soft, "Thank you, Poppy," and without further ado, he escorted her slowly out the door.

* * *

**7:45 pm**

The chiming of the wards, this time, was at least expected, though later than he thought it would be. Harry rose from Severus' chair, where he'd been brooding, staring at the small fire, and went to answer the door. As he'd thought, Arthur was standing in the alcove, looking a bit uncomfortable; most folk did down in the dungeons, but Harry found them close and safe.

"Harry!" Arthur exclaimed, giving him a brief hug. Stepping back, Harry made room for him to pass.

"You were expecting someone else?" Harry murmured as he closed the door behind him. Following him into the sitting room, he watched in amusement the frank look of surprise on Arthur's face as he slowly turned, taking in the room.

"I say, this _is_ quite cosy. I'm afraid it's not at all what I thought it would be."

"Oh, it's better than it was this morning. Dobby helped me carry out the rack and the chains, and, with nothing better to do this afternoon, I cleaned out all the cobwebs before harvesting all the mould off the walls," Harry teased, his eyes bright with laughter.

"Ah--what?" Arthur asked, staring hard at him, and then started chuckling. "You're having me on."

"Only about the mould," Harry dead-panned, chortling at the way Arthur's face fell into horror then smoothed. He gazed at Harry keenly and then laughed. "Serves me right to make assumptions like that, doesn't it?"

"A little bit." Harry shrugged. "I'm used to it and we rarely have guests, so I guess it's natural for people to think about all the horrible things one gets to in the dungeons. Besides, if I recall, Severus once told me it took him almost three years to clean them up, so I expect your memories of them are a bit different than my own."

"Ah, yes, I understand," Arthur responded absentmindedly, looking at some of the titles in the bookcase, but Harry could see he really didn't. It was all right, though. Arthur was a good man and, like just about everyone else, couldn't truly appreciate the better attributes of a well-kept dungeon.

Looking a bit nervous at Harry's silence, Arthur turned from the books, his hands buried in his pockets as he said, "Are we ready, now? If you'd like, we can go on up or we could stay here a while longer until they call us."

Harry looked around the room himself. "No, I just need to finished getting dressed and then we can leave. I think I have seen enough of this place for a while." He didn't mention that it was a very lonely place without his 'roommate'.

Arthur moved to the side of the room by the fire and sat in Harry's chair. "I'll just wait for you here, then."

"All right. Can I get you anything to drink? A brandy perhaps?" Harry asked, remembering his manners.

"No, thank you. Albus said there would be refreshments waiting for us upstairs. I'll survive until then."

Harry nodded and went to their bedchamber. Boots on and a trip to the loo later, Harry donned the outer robe, adjusting the heavy robe to settle smoothly on his shoulders. He went to the mirror to make sure it was falling straight, thinking of when Severus had replaced the caustic, although very amusing at times, Wizarding mirror he'd had before with this antique Muggle version. Oddly reluctant to leave now, Harry gave himself a glare, and left the room to rejoin Arthur.

Arthur stood when he heard Harry come in. "Are we ready?" he asked and then paused, eyeing his robes. "You look splendid, Harry. I don't think I've ever seen you in full Wizarding robes before--usually you favour those with the trousers and such."

"Well, they seemed a little too informal for this, and I don't have much cause to wear these." Harry turned to leave. "Shall we be on our way? Wouldn't do to be late to my own wedding."

Joining him, Arthur smiled as they walked to the door. He looked at the Muggle watch Harry and Severus had given him on his last birthday. "Not too much longer--Albus said everything would be delayed a half hour. Wasn't very long on explanations, but Albus never is, not when there are others who can tell the tale." He glanced at Harry sideways.

Harry set the wards, taking a deep breath of the air outside their quarters; it might be the same air he'd breathed a few seconds ago when still inside, but it tasted different now, sweeter, filled with greater promise. He shook his head at his own fancy, saying, "So is that why the old bugger doesn't tell anybody anything?"

A half-smile forming on his lips, Arthur said, "Well, that and our good headmaster likes a spot of drama every now and again. Makes some sense, though; at 154 I'm not sure what it takes to make anything exciting again when one's 'seen it all'. Of course, we're both too young to have _that_ problem."

"Hmmm. You have a point. I'd not thought of it quite that way." They continued down the hallway in companionable silence. Halfway up the stairs out of the dungeons, Arthur looking more comfortable with each step away, Harry said, "Did I remember to thank you for waiting with me?"

Arthur laughed. "Definitely nerves. Yes, Harry. You've thanked me more than enough. Hedwig is exhausted with all the gratitude you poured on us this last week."

"Remind me to thank her," Harry said distractedly, noting the end of the _Sanos_. Quiesta was finished. He stopped, closed his eyes, and concentrated. He was still blocked. Giving a small sigh, he resumed walking.

Arthur just shook his head and smiled, but said nothing.

They reached the Great Hall and, turning left, went down a side hall towards the Room of Requirement. "Did Albus tell you how we're to do this?"

Somewhat distracted by his own thoughts, Arthur stared at Harry a second before focusing on him and replying, "Yes. We're to knock on the door three times, wait a beat, and push the lion."

"The Lion," Harry said, glancing at the smooth door.

"That's what he said." Arthur walked up to the door and did as instructed. On the third knock, a lion's head appeared in the middle of the door at eye level. Arthur turned to look at Harry, who shrugged as if to say 'how am I supposed to know'. Pushing on the lion's nose, the door swung open to a cosy room with two comfortable chairs set at angles to each other. Between them was a small table upon which rested a wooden salver with two glasses of amber liquid, some soft cheese with green apple slices and small points of toast. On the opposite side, behind the chairs, was another door with no handle.

Harry and Arthur settled themselves wordlessly in the chairs and startled at the fire burning merrily where the door they'd entered had just stood.

"I guess this means I should be glad I went to the loo before we left," Harry said dryly, taking one of the snifters of brandy, handing the other to Arthur.

Arthur chuckled and helped himself to some of the food. Harry thought about it and decided that if he were going to drink the liqueur, he should probably eat something as well, but he still wasn't hungry. He set the snifter back on the table, untouched, where it promptly morphed into a glass of milk. Chuckling, he lifted the glass and drank deeply of it. "I think this is the first time I've ever seen this room change things so quickly, but it's exactly what I need; I haven't eaten since this morning, but the thought of food..."

"Is unappealing. Nerves as I said. It's to be expected. I was a nervous wreck when I got married," Arthur said with a fond smile. "And with it starting late..." He gazed at Harry expectantly.

Harry smiled to himself, wondering when Arthur had become so transparent. "So, Albus didn't tell you why we're delayed?"

"No, he was singularly quiet about it."

"Hmmm. Severus was injured; they called in Quiesta to heal him while I was stuck in the dungeons." At Arthur's startled expression, Harry hastily assured him, "Oh, he's better, but it took longer than they thought it would." Or at least he hoped Severus was all right.

"There is much missing out of the middle of that tale--like all of it. But no matter. I suspect I can get answers later; however, I am glad to hear Severus will survive his 'accident'."

And when had Arthur become as sneaky as Albus? Harry decided to humour him. "It was no accident," Harry replied slowly.

Arthur stared at him. His "Oh?" carried a wealth of questions.

"It was Malfoy," Harry said flatly.

"Ah." Arthur was silent for a few minutes. Quietly he mused to himself, "Well, that is a bit surprising. I hadn't expected him to tip his hand quite this soon; he's usually more cunning and patient than this."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked bluntly.

Arthur hesitated, then making a decision, replied, "Lucius is like a burr; once he sticks to your trousers, you can't get rid of him. He's been quietly gathering followers both here and abroad, mostly in Italy where the Ministry of Magic is lax and more than a little corrupt. A Galleon goes a long way there. We've been watching him carefully, trying to determine which of the Death Eaters remaining are still fighting a war they won't acknowledge is over versus which ones have joined Lucius. We still don't _know_ what he's been up to, but we have noticed the number of marriages in the older houses have increased as have the number of births. And he's hiding some known fugitives from Azkaban, like Lindsay Avery and Peter Pettigrew, but without proof..." He shook his head. "While we don't think he's setting himself up to be the next Dark Lord, we do think he's trying to establish a power base, presumably to take over the Ministry. But again, without solid evidence..."

He took another sip of the brandy and settled back into the chair. "Of course, all of this is privileged information." He looked off into the distance, a worried frown marring his brow. Almost to himself, he continued, "Bless him, Albus must have been looking for the proof we need; obviously he was not successful or he would have told me. But it is odd he sent them out so close to the wedding--unless..." He looked over at Harry. "I suppose he had his reasons. He always does."

Harry chuckled grimly. "Yes, he did, actually. Good ones as it turned out." He said nothing more and glanced away from the curiosity in Arthur's eyes. How could he explain it when he didn't understand it himself? He drank down the last of the milk, the glass disappearing after he set it down.

"Did I tell you Molly is thinking of going back to work?" Arthur asked out of the blue.

"Really? Where? Has she had any offers?"

Arthur chuckled, saying, "Yes, she's been asked several times over the years by an old friend of ours who runs the rare book department of Gringotts to help him with their collection. She apprenticed with Finius until she got pregnant with Bill and the others, but she's kept up with it over the years and now that Ginny's engaged, the last one out of the nest, so to speak, Molly wants to go back to it. And with me out all the time, it will give her something for herself."

Harry was stunned. Where had he been? "Ginny's engaged? When? To whom?"

Arthur's face softened. "I am sorry, Harry. It has been quite a while since we've seen you, hasn't it, what with Ron and all."

Harry waved his hand in negation. "It's all right. I've been more than a bit preoccupied myself, but that still does not answer my questions."

"Well, it hasn't been all that long. Only a month or so. We're waiting for them to set a date before we publish the Banns. And they say they won't do that until they find a house, so she's still living in that rabbit warren with all her friends while Neville's staying in his rooms on campus until then."

Rabbit warren? Then it hit him. "Neville? As in Longbottom?" Harry asked incredulously. "I didn't even know they were dating; he never mentioned it the few times I've seen him." And he realised, with a sense of shame, he'd not asked.

Arthur looked uncomfortable. "They started dating a couple of years ago. Ginny was up at St. Mungo's visiting Bill and Ron at the same time Neville was there to visit his parents. They got to talking and one thing led to another." He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. "In fact, that's how we heard about the work you were doing. When you first approached us about the boys, I admit we were a bit sceptical, but talking to Neville and seeing the progress you'd made with his parents helped us make the decision to go ahead and let you try." He stared off into the distance, remembering. "Best choice we ever made, too."

Harry decided not to make an issue of it and murmured, "So little Ginny is getting married. I feel so out of everything, like the world is just passing me by. I need to start paying better attention."

Arthur chuckled. "If you think that now, let me assure you it gets much worse as you get older. We all do it, let time slip past us, so don't feel alone." He took another sip of the brandy. "So, let's see, what other news do we need to catch up on."

As they talked, Harry gave up trying to contact Severus, paying attention instead to all the little happenings in the Weasley family he'd missed with his loss of contact with Ron. Not that they'd seen much of each other since they'd reconciled almost four months ago. Just about the time he'd resolved to start at least Owling them more, the door behind them chimed. Startled, he and Arthur peered around the back of their chairs and saw they door behind them now had a handle.

Arthur looked at his watch before turning his gaze to Harry. "8:25 pm. Right on schedule. Ready?"

Harry took a deep breath, standing. "As ready as I'll ever be." As he turned to go around the chair, he could be heard murmuring, "And about bloody time, too."

Arthur chuckled, and they went, together, to the door.

* * *

**Timeless**

He walked through the endless corridors of time and space in the twilight realm of endless possibilities the Orrery represented. Reaching the infinite point where the future meets the past, he called out the mighty words of ancient power and captured an instant into a shimmering ball of reality. It twisted and writhed within his gnarled hands, his normally snowy white beard painted the brightest colours of the rainbow to the darkest shades of midnight as the captive moment desperately tried to escape his inexorable prison. He spoke to it, soothingly, lovingly, until captivated more by his charm than his magic, it calmed, expectantly waiting to do his bidding, for like everything else in this place, it could not ultimately refuse him.

Carefully cradling the fledgling against his chest like the infant it was, he carried it out of its cold birthing place, through an enchantment made only for those of his kind, into a plain room warm with promise. Happy, the moment begged in its noisy silent fashion to be released into this new inviting home, a sanctuary where it could reside in happy stasis. He whispered patience to it, waiting until it once again was under his spell, pulsing brightly with all its latent power, for both he and it knew nothing contained more power than Now.

His shoulders starting to droop with the effort of holding such an eager participant, he took a moment of his own to focus inner resources rarely called upon. Like an Ouroboros, his strength fed his weakness until, balanced, he stood tall and straight. Raising his arms, he waited for the instant and when it was right he released the captured moment, floating it until it spun furiously, freely in the centre of the Room. Joyfully it turned, faster and faster, growing with each revolution until it overtook him, passed him, encompassed him within itself. He waited and carefully watched its soft edges slowly expanding to fill the Room. Sweating with the effort, he watched and waited and when it began to escape the confines of its possibilities, in that instant when it crossed the lines of reality, he called upon the awesome power of the Now it was about to invade. With long words of power, he raised his arms again and bound the moment with the possibilities and made them one Now.

The past meeting the future held by the present. This was the way of the Now. It was done.

Now he could rest easy, knowing that those he loved would be safe. Conjuring a squashy chair, he gratefully sank into it, the last indulgence of the day, surrounded as he was by the infant moment he'd just birthed. It frolicked and rolled and played like a puppy, exhausting in its exuberance.

He was tired, but his tasks for this day were not yet completed. Patting a pocket in his robes, he smiled and, rummaging in its vast depths, pulled forth a bottle of love. Oh, _they_ might call it a potion, or any of a dozen other names, but he knew the reality of its creation. Conceived in concern, nurtured by boundless intellect, and born out of the purest love and trust, both shining things so rare he kept them close to his heart, knowing they asked for nothing more than his love in return. No favours, no conditions, no strings except the ties that had bound them for over thirty four years.

Uncapping the bottle, he poured a measure, his mind turning to thoughts of fat, plump lemons dancing on the ends of shiny green boughs made bright with a relentless sun. He took a sip and the pleasures of ice cold lemonade on a scorching summer day burst on his tongue. He savoured the taste, sip after sip, until the small measure was gone. With regret, he spelled the cup clean and resealed the bottle. Already he could feel the love in the bottle flowing warm in him, giving strength to tired limbs and clarity to thought, and as it flowed through him he couldn't help but wonder what it contained. Shaking his head, he laughed at his own conceit, knowing that trying to guess what made it work was like trying to fathom the heavens and life itself. For he knew, if nothing else, that _nothing_ comprised merely its ingredients, that even the most common weed, if imbued with the magic of one who loved, could heal the world.

After tonight, he would be travelling a new path. A short road, he knew, compared to the others before it, one with gentler curves ever moving downhill until he reached the terminus. But he also knew this one would be richer than any other he'd ever travelled, for he would, for the first time in his life, be able to slow down enough to truly enjoy the thousands of little joys awaiting him on either side. Not that he'd ever ignored them before, but there had been times he'd not been able to do more than spare them a regretful passing glance.

Closing his eyes, he waited, relishing that he had a moment to spare, a moment filled with its own importance from simply existing, not requiring _something_ to give it meaning. He studied this moment, feeling within it all the promise of what was to come from it and what had made it. Just like the little moment he'd captured here, in this Room of Infinite Possibilities, it burst into the future with each passing instant, leaving behind the echoes of the past. Always moving, always containing within it all the moments of eternity.

He smiled with its secret. It was almost _time_.

* * *

TBC

* * *

Quiesta's 'song' was adapted from the Scottish/English traditional "Night Visiting Song". Many thanks to Aseneth for her help in researching alternate wording/versions and cadences.

* * *


	27. Part II : To the Veils of Death and Beyo...

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Twenty Seven : To the Veils of Death and Beyond**

**25 October 2003** (Continued)

**8:30 pm**

Arthur had no more touched the door when the cosy little room around them dissolved, leaving them on the far side of the much changed Room of Requirement. While Harry had been here numerous times over the years, it was so different this time, it took him a few moments to get his bearings. To him it looked like the Room itself had no boundaries, the people within forming one of their own as they gathered in a loose circle around a large eight point sunburst pattern in the centre, lit softly from within. The rest of the room was in pale shadow as if the circle was suspended freely in time and space.

The guests, arranged in pairs, stood near their appointed places ready to complete the circle. The four larger arms of the sunburst, where the eight witnesses would stand, were set on the cardinal points of the compass; the lesser four, which would be occupied by those representing the community, were centred between. Dumbledore, resplendent in sky blue and white robes awaited them in the middle, facing the north. Bemused, Harry looked at Arthur's amazed face, and together they strode into the soft light from the west, while Severus--

Harry thought he'd never seen a more wonderful sight than the exhausted face of his beloved coming towards him, escorted by Poppy. His heart, pounding wildly, tightened in profound relief as he devoured every detail of his appearance. With obvious stiffness, Severus slowly approached, and when they met in the middle, their arms rose involuntarily, hands sliding comfortingly under the sleeves of their formal robes. The almost painful pressure of their fingers tightly grasping the forearms of the other somehow made this moment more real. They allowed themselves only this simple gesture--both _knowing_ that to do more, to show just how overjoyed they were to be back together, would involve bare skin and complete privacy.

Standing close, Harry held Severus' tired gaze. With their touch his healer's senses told him his lover still hurt; he suppressed the urgent desire to make him well and concentrated instead on conveying his full heart with his eyes and through their bonds, sending his love and concern. Severus replied back with his own that he understood Harry's restraint and that this internal loving was enough for the moment, that if he were to do more, he wasn't quite certain he would be able to stop. So they greedily took what comfort they could; the blood pulsing beneath warm skin under their restless hands and the feelings in which they wrapped each other became a steady reminder that they were finally together, soon to be never parted. With a reluctant, mutual squeeze, they separated, standing side by side facing north.

Dumbledore waited patiently, knowing they needed this small time to reconnect, for each to ensure the other was well. Although he was unhappy with what had transpired and its heavy cost to them both, especially Severus, he was conversely pleased: their binding tonight would be stronger for their recent trials. The day had proved to him again that though he might be a master of the Orrery, serendipitous chance always had a way of ensuring he was only partially correct in his assessments. He wryly thought of the 'other' things he'd glimpsed in their future and suspected one of them, in particular, would be far more 'interesting' than anything he could foresee now. He had brief pang of regret that he would most likely not live long enough to enjoy the mayhem it would bring into their lives, then brightened as he realised he could relentlessly plague them about it as Phineas and Merlin did him. He smiled to himself; he so loved poetic justice.

When Harry and Severus were ready, their reunion as complete as he knew they would allow themselves, Albus called the guests to their places, his back to Severus and Harry. Everyone else stepped forward onto the enchanted circle, Poppy joining them in the centre, smiling when she faced her two friends. With a word of command from Dumbledore, the room disappeared. They were suspended in the Orrery, the sunburst taking its place in the middle as the sun, the stars dancing around them. The planets, frozen in the arrangement foretelling their bond on this night, floated around them, their orbits forming circles outside of circles off into the distance. While the other guests simply thought this was part of the rather elaborate decor, only the four of them in the centre knew where they really were.

Certain of their isolation in this secure place, Dumbledore began the rite, older than the room they stood in. "We have gathered here at the behest of our friends Severus Snape and Harry Potter to witness and forge their final binding. The Banns have been published, and their marriage has been approved by their adopted community." He slid his eyes to Malia and winked, never breaking the cadence of his speech. "Most of the conditions of the Closed Form have been met, with the last--the Handfasting Trial--to be proven later at the Assimilation. Your presence tonight is twofold--to witness their bond--to embody the Form, but more importantly, we are here to celebrate their love for us and each other in a union that will transcend time itself."

Dumbledore pulled his wand out of the full sleeve of his robe. "The rite of the Form is simple: The Attunement (which we are now completing), The Casting of the Circle, The Blessings (which we will all bestow), The Exchange of Vows and Rings, The Assimilation, and The Closing of the Form with the witnessing and acceptance of their Marriage Contract. Severus and Harry have opted to express their part of The Blessings as an Epithalamium." There were whispers of surprise around the circle.

Dumbledore chuckled, acknowledging the glare from Severus, as he continued, "I freely admit I coerced them into writing a traditional Epithalamium--five verses apiece--one each on their past, courtship, present, passion, and future. They, brave souls, have chosen to write it separately, without collaboration."

He held out his wand, which began to spurt white sparks out of the end. "We forge the links to each other by community and commitment." He circled the flaring wand in a flat orbit starting from the North running clockwise until the streamer of sparks at the end joined those at the beginning. With a flick of his wand, the sparkles expanded outward like ripples on a still pond until they completely surrounded the guests. "Please join hands." Each person in the ring crossed arms and joined hands with their neighbors. "We bind the links to each other with cooperation and love." With another command, the magic formed a link with each, merging them into the Form as a whole. When the sparkles disappeared, they stood once again alone, their hands falling to their sides.

Holding his wand at his side, Dumbledore declared, "The Circle has been cast. All within have been bound by the Form. We will now begin the Blessings."

He held out his hand to Poppy, who moved into the centre, facing Severus and Harry. She solemnly raised her wand to her forehead and pulled out a fine filament similar to the ones drawn from Severus and Harry at their handfasting. The strand became a thin white cord floating separate in the air between them. "I am the Alpha, the Keeper of the Spirits, the Spiritual Realm of your journey. I bring balance, wholeness, integrity, and spiritual growth to your union." She touched the cord twisting in front of her. "This is the proof of your binding; when completed by the Omega, it will become the foundation of your union." She moved aside, allowing Dumbledore to stand before them, Poppy's cord floating freely to his right.

Eyes locked with Harry's, Severus spoke the first verse of his Epithalamium--their past:

_"Shadows of light_  
_Filled my soul and my dreams almost ev'ry night._  
_Left with nothing but memory;_  
_It was all I could see._

_Fearing the dance_  
_I would silently watch but not take the chance_  
_They'd see through the reality_  
_Of the man that was me._

_Then hope came to me with a glance; I was almost undone,_  
_Bound by your eyes shining bright with the light of the sun."_

As Severus recited the verse of the poem, Dumbledore raised his wand and gently placed the tip on Severus' forehead. As he pulled the wand back, the strand of Severus' past hung in the air next to Poppy's foundation cord. With a twist of his wand it lengthened and transformed into a thin cord the bluish-white of new snow.

With the two strands in place, Harry took Severus' hands, his thumbs stroking the backs, and recited his Epithalamium verse:

_"I was more than what people saw--_  
_A saviour, but only a boy_  
_Snared by my fate hid in the blood of war accurs'ed._

_I felt I was naught but a pawn_  
_Trapped in a game with no rules to be found._  
_Stalked by despair, caught in a furtive, deadly seduction._  
_My purpose gone, I had no reasons to live;_  
_Your caring touch opened lonely eyes to see you as a man."_

Dumbledore pulled Harry's intent from his forehead, carefully avoiding his scar; the captured filament transformed into a silken cord the colour of ermine in the winter. With a touch of his wand to the three white cords, they twisted and twined into one shimmering whole.

Severus smiled to himself; the cords reminded him of a midnight snowball fight he'd had with Harry one night when Harry had come home late from St. John's. He'd been bored and worried, and finally succumbing to the antsy feeling, had gone down to hide in the shadowy shelter of the door of the stairs leading to their quarters to await Harry's return. He didn't know then or now, why the cheerful face of his lover, almost skipping down the path to their stair, a jaunty whistle floating on the air before him made him bend down and pack the first snowball, given that it was so out of character for him, but he remembered with glee the look of utter shock on Harry's face when he'd lobbed it with deadly precision right in the middle of his face. As he was about to throw the second one at Harry in his memory, a mental rush of cold filled his mind as Harry sent an image of himself with a thick splatter of snow clinging to his hair and the side of his face--the product of Harry's retribution. He shivered remembering how it had slid down inside the collar of his cloak, the icy water freezing on his skin. He caught the flash of a grin on Harry's face as they both remembered how they'd warmed up afterwards.

Once the new cord was complete, Albus stepped to the side so they could approach the first compass point, where Ron and Hermione awaited them.

Harry thought of his best friends and wondered how they were faring with the new ties that bound them. While Ron had forgiven him, he'd never spoken of the effects of his new closeness to his wife, a closeness he'd tried to avoid in the Vows of their own marriage. Hermione just glowed. Curious and suspicious, he reached out his healer's senses, and Harry suddenly realised why. He chuckled softly as they made their way over to them, answering Severus' unspoken question with a mental picture that had his lover chortling along with him; Ron was in for a bit of a hard time in the not so distant future.

While Severus and Harry stood before them, hands clasped, Ron spoke first. "We are the North, Keepers of the Earth, the Physical Realm of your future, and witnesses to your vows." Hermione finished the Form, a secret smile on her lips, "We bring good health and a happy, well-grounded home to your union." Ron took his wand, Hermione hers, and they each pulled a strand out of their foreheads to hang in the air, twining to form a single brown cord. It sailed over to Dumbledore where it hung separate in the air.

Harry spoke the next verse to Severus--their courtship:

_"Teacher, friend, or foe--I knew not._  
_Unsure whether you would ever find out_  
_Just how much I needed you;_  
_Then ev'rything changed--you wanted me, too._  
_Tender patience with forbearance_  
_Conquered all our fears as we took the chance."_

Albus once again plied his wand to Harry's forehead and the resultant strand turned a rich ochre.

Severus waited until the cord hovered near the other ones.

_"You brought light to the darkness_  
_Fully shrouding a heart_  
_Beating hopeless and unsure how to show you my love._  
_Wistful feelings well guarded_  
_Until our trust was certain;_  
_Reckless, my soul a coin paid for you."_

Dumbledore meshed the chocolate brown cord from Severus with the other two cords to form one the colour of fresh turned earth. It hung in the air next to the foundation cord.

Harry thought of a time when the two of them had gone into the Forbidden Forest one clear night to harvest the Roots of Nightshade Severus had needed for his potions stock. It had been hard work; Harry hadn't a clue how to dig out the delicate roots, so he'd stood point to protect Severus while he turned over the rich earth, digging out the small sections he needed with a small golden spade. It had turned out to be a fairly uneventful night, the only disturbances being Hagrid coming through with Fang when he'd seen the light of their shadowed lantern. Hagrid had known what to do, so helping Severus, the work had gone faster, which had been all to the satisfaction of the two centaurs who stopped by, also noting the light; they'd made it clear they wanted them well away. A picture of Harry standing alert, wand drawn, Fang literally sitting on his feet, filled his head; he glanced at Severus and smiled as they moved clockwise around the circle.

The next two people brought them smiles. Ben and Kalani awaited them, their solemnity belied by their mischievous eyes. Their wands pulled the burnished gold strands from each other, an island variation of the ceremony. As the filaments formed the cord and floated over to Dumbledore, Ben spoke their approval. "We bring to this union the gift of friendship, both merry and profound." Kalani continued, "May you always share the ability to speak your thoughts and hearts to each other with respect and devotion."

Harry and Severus clasped hands with them, both thinking of the time Kalani lay helpless under Harry's hands as he bound him even more closely to Ben. Severus leaned over and kissed Ben on the cheek, murmuring, "Thank you for teaching me what courage truly is." Harry was astounded almost as much as Ben at the demonstration, so rare for Severus, but Harry understood what it meant, on all its levels; Ben had knowingly risked as much as any of them that fateful day and it had been his courage as much as Harry's that had led Severus to finally accept Harry and his work. Not knowing what else there was to say, both Ben and Kalani nodded in acknowledgement in the reserved manner of the islanders and they moved on, secure in their friendship.

Molly and Arthur waited for them next. Harry could feel Severus' discomfort as they traversed the circle. Knowing that any healing at all would not be a good idea at this time, Harry quietly cast his simple propping spell to help Severus support his weight on tired legs. Severus looked at him sharply and smiled his relief while Dumbledore nodded his approval when Harry glanced at him.

They stood before the older Weasleys, their pride evident in their faces; Harry felt this was like an approval from his own parents. Arthur stated, "We are the East, Keepers of the Air, the Mental realm of your Bond, and witnesses to your vows." Molly continued, "We bring wisdom, learning, and intellectual growth to your union." Arthur using his wand and Molly hers, pulled their strands, which twined to form a grey cord. It joined the others by Dumbledore.

Severus spoke quietly of their present, his shadowed eyes telling a tale of long nights spent writing this verse:

_"Emerald eyes_  
_Mask your scars deep inside in a poor disguise_  
_I have seen what you cannot hide_  
_When you lay by my side._

_Caught by our past_  
_We know each dawning sunrise may be our last--_  
_Time so precious we can't despair_  
_Blessed with each day we share._

_I'd give my life to protect you and keep you from harm._  
_I give my heart when embracing you close in my arms."_

With Severus' dark grey strand in front of him, Harry loved him with the tightening of their hands. The Epithalamium was becoming more personal now; speaking the words to each other alone would have been hard enough, but to express them, out loud, with others present, no matter how close, was a small torture.

Dumbledore was pleased they'd held nothing back and drew Harry's dove grey strand as he recited:

_"We are 'marked' by more than our dreams;_  
_Forgiving of all that we've been,_  
_Our shadows render invisible the ties that bind us._  
_You see through me and accept the good with the bad;_  
_Despite my flaws, I'm stunned you completely love me as I am."_

Dumbledore joined all three to form one the colour of clouds after a spring rain. The cord put Harry to mind of a day when he and Severus had been returning from Wales after hunting for antiques. The day had been muggy, the walk from the Apparation point making them sweaty. When almost to the castle, a sudden cloudburst had soaked them. As refreshing as the cool rain had been and as fine as their mood had been, it had never occurred to them to seek shelter and they'd taken advantage of the sudden solitude the rain brought to walk hand-in-hand the rest of the way to the castle, laughing, assured that everyone else would remain snug in the castle until the downpour was over. Severus squeezed Harry's hand as picture of a soaked, laughing Harry, hair plastered to his head, glasses all spotted, filled his mind. They both remembered the day fondly.

As they moved further around the circle, the undulating strands of causality followed them.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, still a bit battered himself stood tall next to the lovely Quiesta. Severus was struck by what a handsome couple they made and a scheming part of his mind wondered on the possibilities for the two single people. He shook his head at his fancy when Kingsley said, "I bring to this union the gift of loyalty and honour, both future and past. May you stand together through all times with honesty and integrity." As Shacklebolt pulled his strand, Quiesta spoke in her low soothing voice, "I bring to this union the gift of collaboration. May you always share the joys of your life's work with each other and respect and nurture each other's dreams."

While Dumbledore joined Quiesta's lavender strand to Kingsley's bright purple, they clasped hands with Harry and Severus. The pulsing strand joined the others. Harry glanced at Severus with the picture he sent and was heartened by the answering wicked gleam; the cord reminded them both of the fat heads of fresh clover they harvested together every spring for the oil of clover Severus used in his lubricants. Harry winked at Severus' raised brow of memory.

With silent laughter, they continued the journey. Moody, his magical eye for once staring straight at them, grinned hugely while Remus was hard-pressed to contain himself, and, feeling the weight of being Harry's only official family, spoke softly, "We are the South, the Keepers of Fire, the Evolutionary Realm of your lives together, and witnesses to your vows." Moody finished saying, "We bring creativity, harmony, sensuality, and vitality to your union." In unison, they pulled their red strands and sent them to Dumbledore.

Harry's shifting to one foot was the only indication he gave of his discomfort with this verse--their passion. He'd agonised over every word, trying to strike a balance between the intense intimacy of their loving with what should be public; there were some things better left unsaid. His eyes darkened, remembering the visions that had inspired his words, as he spoke:

_"Dulcet silk lulls me to pure bliss._  
_Breathless wonder culminates with your kiss._  
_Each sure brush of fingertips,_  
_Skin loved tenderly with feather soft lips_  
_Brings repletion safe from all harm._  
_My heart is so full lying in your arms."_

Severus on the other hand had found this verse the easiest to write. The words flowing out of his quill had landed smooth on the parchment; the difficulty lay in saying the private feelings out loud while he burned with the fire Harry's words had lit in his imagination and memory. Without thought, he trailed his hand over Harry's face, the fingers resting lightly on his jaw, stroking, as he spoke the words, his voice slow and dulcet.

_"In the long nights of quiet_  
_Passion trembling in firelight_  
_Your lips burn me to my core; my repletion your joy_  
_Until weak with the wanting_  
_Absolution is given._  
_With your loving you free me from my shadows; my heart's soaring."_

Harry felt the desire slam into him as the silk of Severus' voice caressed him, the heat blossoming as the images of what those words meant floated lazily into his mind as Severus uttered them. He closed his eyes to contain it, to not reach out and do what the words begged him to do. And he'd almost succeeded when the breath of a kiss brushed his lips. His eyes flew open to stare at his lover, mere inches away, his eyes blackening with an answering desire. He felt the brush of Severus' breath across his face, a thing more intimate than the kiss. Regret coloured their sighs; with a mighty effort they pulled away, the sparks flying between them nonetheless.

While they visibly struggled to rein in their passion, Dumbledore bound the red cords taken from each while they were so preoccupied. He smiled to himself; this was going to make things quite interesting at the end--the crimson cord vibrated in the air as if there was not enough space to hold it. The guests looked away to give them privacy, hiding their small smiles.

A few moments later, under better control, they continued on. Malia stood regally with her shy daughter, Kahealani. Malia spoke first. "I bring to this union the gift of _Ohana_ or family and community; we are all one in life. My wish for you is that you continue to know the joys of your friends and loved ones, knowing that even if not with us today, they are ever with us here." She held out her hands and touched their hearts. They both held her hands there a moment and then released them.

Malia waited patiently for shy Kahealani to clear her throat before saying softly, "I bring to this union the gift of communion, the everyday tasks of taking care of each other. May you always cherish the quiet times, the times we hold close for those when we cannot and need them the most."

Malia removed Kahealani's strand as well as her own. While Dumbledore joined Malia's pale pink strand to Kahealani's of plumeria red, Severus thought they were much like the summer blushes they'd seen every time they'd tried to gently tease the girl whenever she'd come to their cottage. Harry and Severus leant in and kissed Kahealani's cheek before doing the same to Malia. They'd come to admire the girl's quiet ways and her dignity in living with her small magic; her personality was a magic all its own. They continued the journey.

Reaching the last compass point, Harry could sense Severus tiring further. He squeezed his hand to give him simple support; while small, the gesture was enough to straighten Severus' back, although he was still too pale. Minerva and Hagrid waited for them.

Dwarfed by the half-giant only in size, Minerva stated, "We are the West, the Keepers of Water, the Emotional Realm of your relationship, and witnesses to your vows." Hagrid completed the Form. "We bring understandin', intuition, mercy, and our love to yer union." While Dumbledore drew the baby blue strand from Hagrid, Minerva pulled her own of cerulean. Severus noticed the warm cast to Minerva's face belied her normal stiff carriage and he thought on all the years they'd shared.

Hagrid sniffled suspiciously and blinked his eyes several times before he would look at them. Harry smiled at his oldest friend at Hogwarts; he put his hand on his arm and before he knew it, was caught in a huge Hagrid hug. He didn't mind and hugged him back.

Waiting for Hagrid to release Harry, Severus looked at Minerva, who nodded in understanding and agreement with his earlier sentiment when she stepped closer to him and said softly to him, "The ties that bind are not necessarily ones we consciously forge, Severus. Sometimes they wrap around us over the years until they are as unbreakable as the ones you make tonight." She embraced him, and when she released him, she whispered, "You made an 'interesting' cat." He pulled his head back, one brow raised, while she chuckled softly. He made a note to himself to ask her about it later.

Harry eventually managed to calm Hagrid down, and with Harry once again facing him, Severus took his hands and finished his Epithalamium:

_"Savour life to the fullest_  
_Quench our thirsts to fulfillment._  
_For now, we stand together, but tomorrow may be_  
_Gone with one dream left to trow._  
_Feeble words fail to answer:_  
_Just how long is forever?_  
_I'll always love you."_

Harry used the time it took Dumbledore to pull the navy blue strand from Severus to compose himself. Severus' words had surprised and moved him; the trust Severus had shown in their company to hear the words of his heart was staggering; his own, he thought, had not been as open. Nonetheless, he drew breath to impart the final verse--their future:

_"We can't see what tomorrow brings us;_  
_Joyfully, unpretentious_  
_We sense each sunrise we greet_  
_May be our last taste of living so sweet._  
_I'll always love you, taking our bond_  
_To the gates of death when we pass beyond."_

Harry's cord was of the ocean and spoke of days spent gazing at an endless sea. He'd almost choked on some of the words as the full import of what he'd written meshed with the unacknowledged fears and uncertainties of the day. Stripped clean of his selfish defences by the Epithalamium, he couldn't hide from them, couldn't conceal their reality anymore. He'd almost lost Severus today and in this incontrovertible instant felt the encompassing pain which would fill his remaining days if his words ever became a reality. He urgently needed to tell Severus this, to let him know that the merest hint of life without him made Harry's soul ache with emptiness.

He needed Severus. Like air, like water, like _life_. Sliding his arms around Severus' waist, he held him close, completing what they had started when they'd first seen each other at the beginning of the ceremony. The hand stroking his hair, the arm, strong around his shoulders told him of Severus' understanding, the gentle kiss on his forehead as he started to pull away an affirmation that they were still alive, the soft words, "You won't be so easily rid of me," a reminder that their mutual mortality should be seen in perspective. Words failing him, Harry gave Severus a small smile, hoping it would be enough to show everything burning inside him. When the sweet memory of their quiet times together in Hana floated across his mind's eye, he knew it had been.

Standing separate again, they were almost done and, fingers entwined, they made their way to the last point on the sunburst. Sprout and Filius were the last to greet them. Sprout could see Severus was tiring again and with her usual consideration, she began speaking as soon they stood before them. "I bring to this union the gift of perseverance, commitment, and compromise. May you realise that everything has its season, that anything worth having is worth waiting for, and that no one is always right." She smiled warmly.

Filius hovered next to Sprout. When Severus had hand-delivered the invitation to him, he'd seen the surprise Flitwick had tried to hide, but if his broad smile and merry manner was any indication, he'd been pleased to be included, saying only that perhaps the incident at the lake had meant more to Severus than he had let on? Now, with a normal, sprightly lilt in his voice, he said, "I bring to this union the gifts of steadfastness and faithfulness. May you continue to love each other with joy and happiness tomorrow the way you so obviously do today."

The soft leaf green of Sprout's strand blended with the moss coloured one from Filius to join the other eight completed strands hovering beside Albus. Severus smiled, hearing the echo of Flitwick's words from a few months before when they'd talked. They thanked them both with the pressing of their hands.

Dumbledore silently led them back to the centre of the circle, the cords following, each twisting in their own way, making a little dance of colour in the air. His task was to complete the circle. Before he spoke, Poppy, standing next to him again in the middle, surreptitiously cast another _Enervate_ spell; Severus immediately looked better, the unnatural whiteness of his face taking on its more sallow cast. He nodded his thanks.

Somewhat startled by her action, Harry took Severus' hand, eyes closing in concentration, his gentle inner touch reading the health of his lover. Severus, exploring this new feeling of Harry inside him, suddenly found his attention returning outwards when Poppy, taking advantage of Harry's distraction, stood close to him, whispering fiercely, "Never forget, Severus, lose not even one instant."

Taken aback by her vehemence, he knew of what she spoke and, given her own situation, he could understand her fervour. In his own silent fashion, he told her so as he softly trailed his fingers down her face; impulsively leaning in, he gave her a kiss on the forehead, after which Harry, who had taken her hand, kissed her on the cheek.

His heart full, Albus watched their silent exchange--Poppy, his beloved, with Harry and Severus, their sons of choice rather than of body: his _family_. He wanted to join them, to add his own affections, but knew this was not the time nor the place. Relieved that the tenderness he couldn't restrain remained well-hidden behind his spectacles, he instead gave them the time to finish their communion.

Once he had everyone's attention again, he quietly stated, "I am the Omega, the Keeper of the Unknown and Unknowable; I am the forger of your vows. I bring serendipity, surprise, and whimsy to your union." Albus plied his wand to his head and pulled forth a strand of intention of a blinding white. Twisting and turning, it joined the others, its inner light highlighting and brightening all that surrounded it. "This is the terminus of your binding; when joined, it will be the solder of your union to unite all the Blessings bestowed, their potential awaiting the final amalgam and tempering of your Vows."

He pulled from a pocket in his sleeve a tiny box, which he opened to reveal the hearts removed from the Gimmal rings when they were handfasted. He took them out and floated them in front of him, the gold winking in the soft light. "Severus? Harry? Your left hands, please."

They both held out their left hands and with Dumbledore's quick spell, the rings took several long moments to morph off their fingers to join their missing mates, obviously resisting their removal. The shock of their absence was unexpected, the comforting handfasting link dissolving abruptly; they missed it dreadfully.

Albus watched their dismayed reactions with open pleasure, saying, "By the reluctant removal of the rings, the Handfasting has been proven. With all the conditions of the Form fulfilled, we may complete it." He began to disassemble the four bands of the handfasting rings so he could rebuild them with the hearts hidden underneath the clasped hands of the middle bands, the outer serpents smoothly running over them all. Joining, the rings hung in the air, the pieces assembling into their proper places.

Harry was relieved. They'd gone through so much already and he'd heard tales where couples had got this far only to have the final binding denied because the previous bond had not been strong enough to last. Although with the assurances Albus had given him earlier, he didn't know why he had doubted it.

Severus, for his part, had no doubts; he'd long suspected he'd felt Harry more than Harry had felt him, not because he was more devoted, but because Harry's magic in it was simply stronger. And something had happened today, he wasn't sure what, but something had 'shifted' within him, within them--an easing of unkenned tensions. Whatever it was, he wasn't sure he really wanted to know how it had come about; he was more than content to bask in the previously unknown ease he felt with Harry.

Their attention was drawn back to Dumbledore by the click of the rings reconnecting. Albus brought the cords forward and with a long incantation, wove them into a solid whole containing the colours of the rainbow, the white heart hidden in the core highlighted by the blinding brilliance of the terminus. The new cord twisted in the air with its own vibrancy. With some difficulty, he controlled it into a semi-circle as before to Harry's and Severus' side, the ends facing them. The rings threaded on the ends, the gold glimmering.

"We are ready to begin the Exchange of Rings and the Assimilation. Severus? Harry? If you will join right hands."

They turned slightly to face each other. Harry held his right hand against his waist, parallel to the floor, palm up. Severus slid his over Harry's, palm down, their fingers resting on the pulse point of the other's wrists. Their eyes locked, both bright with the promise of the Epithalamium.

Albus patiently waited for them to begin the Exchange of Rings. As they each reached for a ring from the end of the floating woven cord, and placed it on the other's left ring finger, they spoke in unison:

_"Epithalamium meum animum exprimet, consulto meo adligatus._  
_Praeterita, praesentem tempum, et ardorem ad posterum nostrum adligo meo sponte."_

Harry took a deep breath; the first part of the vows sent ripples through him, the ring heavy with Severus' promise. While Severus was not as visibly open in revealing his own shock, Harry could see it in the slight widening of his eyes and the jerk of Severus' hand against his own.

Reaching out again, they each grasped the end of the cord farthest from them. With arms thus crossed and right hands still joined, they said together:

_"Non iam solitarius sum._  
_Mihi insum._  
_Tibi insum._  
_Vobis qui nos amant insumus."_

After handing the completed cord now carrying a part of their vow to Albus they met in the middle, their lips joining softly for an instant, but forever. Their left hands joined as they had during their handfasting, upright, the rings hot against their skin. Placing his hands over them as if sealing them, Albus then wrapped the commingled cord around their joined hands at the wrists. As he completed the loop and tied the significant knot to bind the cord to them, they looked not on him, but on each other and recited as one:

_"Partes capimus et nos adligamus:_  
_Amicitia, praesidium, civitas, et gens, amoris obstricti."_

He touched their shoulders to let them know they were almost finished. Disengaging their right hands, the three of them pulled their wands and touched the knot with them. Time and the place faded away for them as Severus and Harry vowed to each other:

_"Pignus meus audi:_  
_Non te desebo ut alium habere._  
_Te apud constanter manebo, neglegens si magno mihi stetit._  
_Semper te amabo,_  
_Ad integumenta mortis et ulterior._  
_Hos te promitto."_

Harry and Severus were too involved to notice Albus gently removing their wands from their hands and with a small smile behind them to Poppy, he joined them with his own. The cord visibly vibrated. Albus touched all three wands again to the cord and said to them:

_"Ubi bifarias eratis--"_

To which they immediately responded:

_"Unus iam sumus."_

It didn't take long after the last syllable faded from the air for them to fall into themselves. The communal magic surged through them strongly, carrying them on a wave made up of themselves and the intentions and wishes of their friends. Thoughts, memories, feelings all became one in the tide of their binding. They revelled in their union and the comforting connection they could feel to everything and everyone around them. It transcended the physical, although the sensations of their held hands, the soft, heavy weight of the cord, and their mingled breaths were experienced as well.

And when they thought it could go no deeper, their personal magic and the wards they bore melded with the commitments and aspirations and vows bound by the cords. It sank deep into their flesh, flew unfettered within them, and settled into a new place inside them, where only they resided--a safe haven--it wrapped around their very essence, the very definition of who they had been, who they were, and who they were to become, and in one bright, blinding moment bound them together, forever. The cord resorbed into them, its unleashed power made them shiver and burn with the fire of their commitments. They were no longer Harry and Severus, they were something more, a part of all that surrounded them, a part of each other, yet, like the columns of the temple, standing separate within themselves.

Unaware of their surrounding, unbound hands glided under the formal robes to hold tight, hands slid into hair to pull them closer as lips moulded in a perfect kiss, all of which amplified the maelstrom and chaos deep within them. They never knew how long they stood there, bodies close, mouths straining to achieve without what was being wrought within.

With the closeness of Severus' body like a living shield, Harry felt protected from anything or anyone who could ever cause him harm. His mate's love wrapped around him, warm and supple--a guard against the cold nights of his dreams; he knew he would never have to fear again with Severus by his side.

Severus felt the joy that was his Harry dancing within him; he'd felt a pale echo of it when they Handfasted, but nothing had prepared him for the fierce happiness surging within him. Harry's love surrounded him, an embrace warming the coldness of his soul; he knew he would never have to be alone again with Harry by his side.

Staggered by the import, and the loss of the kiss when Harry ended it, Severus sagged and then righted himself. Harry tightened his grasp against the silky fabric at his waist, giving him purchase, knowing the momentary weakness was caused as much by his remaining injuries and the lingering remnants of the curse (which he could now feel in full) as the intimacy of the bond. Giving into the temptation he'd had all evening, and with the weary internal acceptance of his new husband, Harry released a little of his energy into him--not a lot--but a little Harry went a long way. Surprised at the ease of the transfer, Severus straightened, re-energised, and after one last serious kiss, they reluctantly broke apart.

Dumbledore beamed at them as did the rest of the assembled. Dazed, Harry looked around at the smiling faces around him and grinned. The object of his desire felt his rare possessiveness, basking in it. While ecstatic inside, Severus was wearing thin on the outside; he was running now on pure magic alone. At the lascivious images suddenly dancing across his vision from Harry as he tested the bond, he raised a brow and muttered, "Really, Mr. Potter. We've time enough for _that_ later." Severus had a feeling this was going to be--interesting--until they both learned to control it again.

Harry's grin just got bigger with both the comment and some answering pictures sent by Severus, mainly about sheep. He was about to speak when Dumbledore cleared his throat and he was once again brought back to the present. "I believe it is safe to say the binding is complete," he said at his driest, "and about bloody time, too." Amidst the chuckles and well-wishes, a small writing table with a thick piece of parchment on it popped up in the centre between him and the new couple. Albus picked up the huge feather quill and handed it to Severus first. "The contract needs to be signed and registered with the Ministry. The last formality to be observed, I assure you."

As Severus was about to sign with his usual flourish, he noticed the words of the Epithalamium and their Vows formed the body of their contract; nothing more, nothing less. While he was not sure he wanted the minions of the Ministry reading such intimate statements, he remembered that Arthur had promised weeks ago that he would personally file it in a place no one would ever find it. He glanced up at the man, reassured by the understanding nod of his head, and with a lighter heart, Severus signed with bold strokes. He handed the quill to Harry, who signed with his normal scrawl, the name "Snape-Potter" unfamiliar to his hand. Harry chuckled as the witnesses signed one by one, remembering the night they'd discussed which name they would take; he decided he was up for a little incest tonight, although he suspected 'Daddy' was still too injured to play. With the clearing of Severus' throat and a picture of Harry on top of a mountain shouting through a megaphone, Harry turned his head in time to see Severus' wicked smirk and hear his murmured, "It's way past your bedtime, 'boy'."

Harry leaned over, his lips at Severus' ear and, resisting the temptation to nip the spot right below it he knew could make Severus shiver and groan, whispered, "Oooo--promises, promises. Does 'Daddy' want to play?"

Before Severus could respond, the parchment, now completely signed, rolled up on its own, and flashed once to duplicate. Another flash saw both parchments and the table disappearing.

"One copy has been forwarded to your quarters, the other to the Ministry for their records." For the first time in the evening Albus looked uncomfortable, his eyes suspiciously bright. To them alone he said, "I am so very content. I despaired at times ever getting you two old souls together--so much like the children I should have wanted." He took them each into an embrace; they could _feel_ him through the bond, the peaceful yet merry balm of his personality doing much to ease the chaos within them.

He stood back and looked at them over his spectacles, "Not that I don't expect more mischief out of you both, probably long before I'm ready for it." With a wave of his wand, he uncast the magic of the circle. The room returned to it proper place in time and space and, within moments, transformed into an ordinary room found anywhere in the castle. A table at the back, a lone vase of flowers defiantly placed there by 'The Girls', held the refreshments.

As the guests moved to the table, Harry placed his hand on Severus' shoulder and leant in, whispering, "Mr. Potter might have been able to wait, but Mr. Snape-Potter is singularly impatient to be gone." He felt Severus' chuckle under his hand and his single word, "Indeed," as they turned to join the group for their celebration.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

I'm not into Author Notes at the ends of chapters, but this one is special.

* * *

Disclaimer: Harry's original Epithalamium was written using the metre of "Alla Luce Del Sole" as performed by Josh Groban. Severus' original Epithalamium was written using the metre of "Un Amore Per Sempre" as performed by Josh Groban. The words to both in no way match those of the respective songs, only the cadence was utilized. Thank you **Aseneth, Delphi, and Jiltanith** for your excellent suggestions and comments.

* * *

My undying thanks go to **Delphi** for the Latin translations of the vows, which are as follows:

_Epithalamium meum animum exprimet, consulto meo adligatus._  
My Epithalamium expresses my heart and soul, bound by my intent.

_Praeterita, praesentem tempum, et ardorem ad posterum nostrum adligo meo sponte._  
My past, present, and passion I freely bind to our future.

_Non iam solitarius sum._ :: I am no longer alone.  
_Mihi insum._ :: I am a part of myself.  
_Tibi insum._ :: I am a part of you.  
_Vobis qui nos amant insumus._ :: We are a part of those who love us.

_Partes capimus et nos adligamus: Amicitia, praesidium, civitas, et gens, amoris obstricti._  
We take each part and bind it unto ourselves: Friendship, protection, community, and family bounded by love."

_Pignus meus audi:_ :: Hear my pledge:  
_Non te desebo ut alium habere._ :: I will never forsake you for another.  
_Te apud constanter manebo, neglegens si magno mihi stetit._ :: I will steadfastly stand by your side regardless of personal cost.  
_Semper te amabo_ :: I will love you always  
_Ad integumenta mortis et ulterior._ :: To the veils of death and beyond.  
_Hos te promitto._ :: This I promise you.

_Ubi bifarias eratis--_ :: Where you were once two--

_Unus iam sumus._ :: We are now one.

* * *

And if you happen to 'see' them, you might want to let my betas, **Lydia Lovestruck, Aseneth, Delphi, and Jessika-Chan**, know just how much their hard work and repeated readings (_ad naseum_) of this chapter is appreciated.

* * *


	28. Part II : Amore Pleasant Interlude

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes  
**Chapter Twenty Eight : Amore Pleasant Interlude**

_Edited for FanFiction . net--just a little--165 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods.  
  
I apologise if this feels choppy in any way, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site.  
  
However, despite the sacrifice, scenes of both Hetero and Slash Relationships remain; Caveat Lector--you have been warned.._

**25 October 2003** (Continued)

The memorable event over (although no one had danced on any tables) and the guests long gone, Poppy bustled around their bedchamber, feeling uncharacteristically restless. She was stopped by a warm hand coming to rest on her arm.

"Come here, my love," Albus said and she gratefully let him fold her into his arms. They shared the sort of deep kiss they'd not experienced for years, the rejuvenated bond within them flaring with a fiery passion, her earlier feeling of restlessness defined by the desire flooding them both.

They let it carry them where it would and for the last time in their lives, they experienced the sweet quickening of their youth. The shackles of age disappeared as each saw only the one they'd fallen in love almost a century before, the love now stronger, deeper, so much a part of them it was as necessary as breathing. Albus held close to him his winsome lithe lass, exploring her fully and with as much delight as he had the first time they'd loved. She in turn took her powerful, fiery red-head into her with the same fervour, straining against him breathlessly as they reached their mutual satisfaction, the pleasure taken and given as astonishing now as it had been then.

And when lying snug and warm in their bed afterward, bodies tired and sated, yet held lovingly close, they both remembered laughingly with aching joints why it was something best left for the young and decided they were supremely content with what they had, for as long as they had it.

* * *

Ben lay awake in the dark, the castle room in which they were staying unfamiliar; tomorrow they would return to Hana. He held a deeply sleeping Kalani close to him not only to ward off the unaccustomed chill of the chamber but also from the satiation of their earlier loving. 

He smiled, content, his body still tingling in places from their recent joining. He rarely surrendered himself to Kalani, but tonight he'd needed to be possessed by his husband, to reaffirm their longstanding trust and bond by giving himself over in this way. While Kalani, totally surprised but understanding (though a little discomfited), had been gentle and taken his time, Ben was still a bit sore but was truly well satisfied.

Kalani's sinful mouth had been especially wanton. Their long unhurried kisses gave as much pleasure as the wet nips bestowed by each on fevered skin. They'd taken their time, letting hands and mouths wander as the ensuing heat made the thick duvet unbearably warm; it had not taken long for the bed clothing to fly to the floor. Kalani's hands had driven him close to madness from which had gradually grown for both an unspeakable need.

Kalani had moved over him, his strong arms quivering as he pushed Ben deep into the bed. When he'd given the nod telling Kalani he was all right, he'd been rewarded by an involuntary hiss of Kalani's indrawn breath as he made love to him. Bright flames had licked his skin with each passing moment, eventually bursting into an intense wildfire shooting through him. The quickening within, redoubled without as their bonds, both the one of their marriage and the one of Kalani's healing, amplified the shared sensations building in them. Almost at an unbearable pitch, they'd balanced on the edge, their exquisite release so profound it stole their breaths. He'd again heard his name gasped along with the ebullient feeling of Kalani straining against him.

And afterwards, the real closeness had come, the oneness of their links still singing through them. Separating, they'd laughingly retrieved fallen bed clothes to warm bodies now cooled of their ardour. Sliding under the cold sheets, the duvet pulled up to their ears, shivering arms wrapped around each other as bodies held close shared the heat brought by coursing blood. They'd whispered words of love, their spent desire spoken with soft kisses and even softer caresses until Kalani's voice had faded, to be replaced by his deep even breathing. And Ben had held his precious burden close, revelling in the moist breath wafting across his chest, the unconscious nips of sleepy lips against his skin, the nestled head lulled into deep sleep by the steady beat of his heart.

Aware of a small continuing discomfort, Ben carefully shifted to a more satisfactory position in the deep downy bed. Once settled, he made sure Kalani was held fast by pulling him closer, breathed in deeply the scent of his bondmate and, placing a light kiss on his tousled head, closed his eyes to dream.

* * *

Molly and Arthur were sharing a cup of tea in the kitchen before going to bed. Molly's skin _itched_ like it often had before the children were born. One look at his eyes told her, through years of experience, that he was feeling the same urge to scratch that she was. 

"It's so quiet with all the children gone now, isn't it?" she asked innocently with the voice often used to seduce him when he was tired after a long day at work.

Recognising the tone, Arthur stood from his chair and, eagerly taking her hands, pulled her up into his arms, pressing her back against the table as he kissed her with the abandon of their early marriage. "Hmmm, yes, quiet and _alone_. I wonder--"

She was well-pleased; Arthur always had been impatient. "Wonder what, love?" she asked, kissing him back.

He took his time unbuttoning the front of her robes, paying special homage to the familiar, loved skin under his lips. "Wonder if the table is as strong as it used to be."

Her eyes flew open as, with a wicked grin, he proceeded to test the theory.

The table held just fine.

* * *

Ron and Hermione were already in bed, already lost in themselves. 

Ron was being uncommonly gentle, mindful of the baby she carried, still so small within her. Frustrated, Hermione finally stopped him, her hand on his shoulder. He lifted his head from the breast he'd been attending and fixed questioning eyes on her.

"Ron, you're driving me crazy," she said as gently as she could given the asperity lacing her voice. At the sudden brightness shining in his face, she realised he misunderstood. "No, Ron--crazy as in frustrated, not brilliant."

His face fell, along with everything else. He rolled off of her, lying on his back, defeated. She sighed exasperated. "Ron, I'm still me, just pregnant. I didn't suddenly Transfigure into a delicate flower. I'm a healthy, lusty woman who wants... you," she whispered, moving nearer to him. She ran her hands over his chest and sides, her lips seeking his in the darkness and when they connected, she poured every ounce of skill and knowledge of him she'd gleaned over the last few years into their kiss.

He responded by pulling her close, partially covering her, his mouth devouring hers, sending her heart into overdrive. He moaned his own frustration when she pulled away. His arms around her tightened and, rolling, he settled her on top of him. She could feel his evident interest and dipped her head to chase wet open-mouth kisses down his neck while his hands lowered and cupped her cheeks.

Delighting in the shivers under her as she traced his earlobe with her tongue, she whispered, "That's so much better." She sat up straddling him, sliding over him, but not allowing him entrance. He bucked and groaned, trying to shift her the little bit he wanted; she chuckled as she thwarted him. She bent at the waist, her hair falling around his face, surrounding them in complete privacy. Huskily she murmured, "C'mon Ron, let's show him how it's done."

His hands firm on her hips, he grinned as she moved the inch.

* * *

Malia was met at the door to their rooms in the castle by Joseph. He caught her 'mood' immediately and, as always, was eager to oblige. "How was it?" he asked, closing the door to their chamber. 

"It was beautiful, just like Ben's and Kalani's, only more formal--I think Albus used an older rite. I wish you could have been there."

He shook his head. "It would not have been appropriate, although I appreciated their invitation."

"No, there was no place for guests, only participants." She told him about the unusual setting, leaving out the excitement of the delay, as she got undressed for bed. His eyes followed her movements and when she reached for her nightdress, he couldn't stand it any longer and in two strides was behind her, his hands caressing her shoulders, his body close to hers. His hands skimmed lightly down her arms and as she raised them to grasp his head behind her, they slid over her small breasts; he loved the way they instantly peaked in the chill of the room. She threw her head back on his shoulder.

"You weren't there very long," he commented, ghosting his lips over her proffered neck, his hands dropping to the front of her hips, pulling her into him; he was ready for her. "I expected you to be there for hours."

She leant into his touch. "No sense hanging around when the happy couple has gone off in a tizzy," she murmured, turning her head to him.

"No, I suppose not." He turned her around and kissed her soundly, stoking her mood. "What say you we _tizzy_ ourselves."

Arching into him, her body told him she liked the idea, very much.

* * *

The twitching tip of her ear tickled his cheek, but she was close against him. A small twig poked into his back, making it itch, but her hand, curled trustingly on his chest under his new robes, was soft and comforting. The air was a little chilly across the top of his head, but she sighed contentedly in her sleep, her breath warming his heart as much as the place where her lips rested. 

Dobby shifted Blinky slightly to draw her closer, rubbing the tip of his nose lightly across the top of her head nestled snugly into his shoulder. The twig could be fixed, the cosy nest where they trysted, hidden on the roof of her master's house in Hogsmeade, could be relined, the walls built a little higher to stop the draft--it was, after all, only a temporary trysting nest until he could grow her a home. A home--their home. The thought chased away all the little discomforts; for now, he was just happy she'd said 'yes' and wanted to spend this time, all time, with him.

The Elf-Glass Orb he'd obtained months ago in hopes of this day was resting securely in his lap. While it would eventually be the instrument of their binding, they'd just awakened it this evening up here alone when they'd sealed their agreement to Join. Blinky would be his; he would be hers. Of course, being the practical creatures they were, the Elf Orb, once awakened, had many other uses, one of which was it could be employed to 'see' things or happenings quite far away, if one knew how to use it. Dobby had not known, but after a few tries, he'd managed to make it work the short distance they'd required.

To watch the human's ceremony with the Orb had been Blinky's idea; she was curious about the men who might be her future masters. Harry she knew from his visits to Master Jed; she thought him very polite, but Professor Snape she'd never met and was a little scared of his reputation as a stern man who was sometimes unkind to his students. Despite Dobby's reassurances, she wanted to see for herself; Blinky didn't want to belong to Professor Snape if he was unpleasant. She'd had enough of that sort of thing at the Malfoys', thank-you-very-much.

Dobby chuckled thinking of her reactions to the ceremony (and really not so different from his own). They'd both been fascinated by the ritual, the setting (which had made her sigh), and the people (Blinky thought the headmaster was very funny looking). The Epithalamium and Vows had sometimes made her cry, but Dobby certainly didn't mind--not when it meant she'd clung to him, burying her face in his neck to hide it, giving him a valid excuse to hold her (not that he really needed much of one in the first place). In her haste to get away from the image of Severus and Harry kissing, she'd almost knocked him out of the nest. Her scrunched up face as she'd exclaimed, "Oh! That's just--unsanitary!" had amused Dobby greatly (even if he did agree with her) although he'd privately thought it rather sweet and not at all what he'd been expecting; Harry and Professor Snape had always been respectful of his sensibilities by not doing _that_ in front of him.

Certainly not at all like the things he'd been forced to witness at--no, it was better not to think on such nasty things.

However, messy human habits aside, when they'd set the Orb aside with the ending of the rites and snuggled deep into the nest, her sleepy comment, "He's not as fierce as he looks--rather like a puffskein, isn't he?" pretty much summed up his opinion about the Professor Snape he saw whenever he was around his Harry. He took her comment to mean she wouldn't mind sharing masters with him.

Masters. Would she choose to be free?

He shrugged--it didn't matter much to him as long as she consented to bending the 'rules' just a bit to be with him, like tonight, let him hold her close, and sneak the occasional snuffle from her (all the sweeter for its theft before their Joining). And maybe someday, if they were deemed worthy, they could mate and have elflings. But that was a long time away, maybe never, a price he paid for his freedom, one she was willing to share, saying it was certainly a lesser payment than not being together at all. No, for now he was content with _his_ Blinky just as they were.

She snuggled closer to him, sighing again, and he knew what Harry had meant when he'd said "_My heart is so full lying in your arms._" His eyes growing heavy, his last thought before he joined Blinky in her dreams was that he hoped Harry liked his wedding gift.

* * *

Was it possible she was _flirting_ with him? 

Shacklebolt had been eyeing Quiesta all evening, stealing glances while standing by her side throughout the ceremony. And now that they (along with the rest of Harry and Severus' 'unattached' friends and colleagues) were at The Three Broomsticks continuing the party left behind, he'd taken his rusty Gryffindor courage in hand to sit next to her in the crowded booth and strike up a conversation. He'd almost fallen over when she'd returned his attention with what appeared to be the same interest and was thankful to all the gods he didn't believe in that his dark skin in the dim lighting hid the multitude of blushes he could feel dancing across his skin as he tried his best not to stammer or make a fool of himself.

Chocolate and cream, such a sinful delight, but that was what came to his mind whenever she'd put her hand on his arm while they talked. And her hair--at times it had taken much of his willpower and most of his attention to stop himself from running his hands through the long wavy hair looking like it was spun of the finest chestnut silk. Staring at it now, he realised it had red and blonde in it as well when viewed by candlelight and, intoxicated by the soft fragrance of it, he wondered how much of his soul he would have to sell to bury his face in it and run the length of it over the length of him. He wondered if she would be interested in seeing as much of him as he would of her. When he finally got the courage up, he was surprised with her 'yes' when he asked her to see a Muggle concert with him the next weekend. They soon found they had much in common.

McGonagall, Hagrid, and Flitwick were all drinking cordials, the tankard in Hagrid's hands better suited to ale rather than the dainty drink McGonagall had insisted on. Kahealani drank sweet pumpkin juice, something she'd never tried before and found she rather liked. She listened while they talked of the ceremony briefly and then moved on to spend more time speculating on how long it would take for Harry to chastise Severus on the day's adventures. The odds were even at ten minutes.

Moody and Remus had dragged them all there, Remus promising Kahealani he would have her back to Hogwarts before it was too late. She'd told her mother where she was going and with whom; Malia had eyed Remus speculatively while he wasn't looking. She _knew_ the gentle werewolf would keep her daughter safe and had exhorted Kahealani to have a good time and "don't be such a wallflower."

Remus found he rather liked the quiet young woman, her shyness and modesty appealing; it brought out a protective streak he didn't know he had in him. He decided he wanted to pursue a relationship with her, later, when he had a chance to talk to her parents--she was so young and he more than twice her age and a werewolf, after all. It would do him no good to pursue the object of his desire if her family wanted nothing to do with him; however, Malia and Kalani seemed different somehow, more tolerant. It made him bold enough to try.

For now, though, he was more interested in cheering Moody up than anything else. The melancholy he could feel from his long-time friend came as a bit of a surprise; Moody was rarely, well, moody. He smiled at his own pun.

The celebration after the ceremony had been shorter than planned given that Severus had been all but swaying on his feet a few minutes after the first toast. His eyes dulled with discomfort and weariness, he'd eschewed a chair saying, "If I sit, I may never get up." Harry had taken over not much later, adroitly moving them both to say their thank you's to everyone in such a manner that no one felt skipped over and everyone said their piece. Remus had noted that Severus knew he was being manipulated, but also suspected the older man really didn't mind all that much; sometimes it was just nice to let someone else take over.

After one final toast to the Snape-Potters, they'd left quickly back to their chambers. The rest of the guests had not stayed long afterwards and it was while Remus had been organising this excursion that he'd first noted his friend's depression. But he'd been distracted from finding out what was wrong. First there had been Kahealani and securing her mother's permission, then there was McGonagall telling anyone who would listen what a 'bad puppy' he'd been (and he swore if she said "I was just fortunate he didn't wee-wee on me," one more time, he'd hex her himself). Then there'd been the usual kerfuffle trying to get everyone in one booth--an impossible task especially since Hagrid took three spaces on his own.

When it became clear they would not all fit, with a great show of regret (genuinely made to Kahealani), Remus had pulled Moody to another table nearby, hoping to find out what was bothering his long-time friend. By the time they'd settled down, Moody was even more morose than when they'd left the castle. His mood had not improved with time and a pint.

Leaning over, he nudged Moody's shoulder with his own.

Moody stared straight ahead, but the magical eye slewed around and pinned him with its gaze. "What?" he asked exasperated.

"Hmmm, I was going to ask you why you looked so down, but now I guess I'll just have to ask why you're so pissed off?"

Moody turned his head to look at him. "I'm not either one. I'm both. Oh, I don't know." He nursed his second ale. "I'm disappointed, I guess."

Brows raised over his pint, Remus asked him why.

"I dunno. I had all these pranks planned, should have been fun--would've embarrassed the hell out of the auld sod. Harry would have laughed--always did like to make the boy laugh. And then we had to go rescue you lot and then there was that ceremony--bloody beautiful _it_ was--and then they were gone. No time for anything. I guess that's what I'm upset with the most. The time. Always passing it is. Always planning. Rarely getting to do it. Most times it doesn't bother me--I don't get my hopes up--it's better that way. But tonight, well, I'd really looked forward to seeing his face. He would've murdered me. It would have been so fine."

Remus thought about it a minute. "Why does it have to be tonight? Wouldn't another night work?"

"Well the mayhem's supposed to be done on the wedding night, isn't it?"

"Maybe, but Severus right now is in no condition do to anything but sleep." He chuckled wickedly. "Hard on Harry, that. But he's a good lad, he'll wait." He had a brilliant thought. "Hey Moody, what were you planning on doing?" He took a big swig off his pint, the kernel of an idea forming to cheer them both up.

"I was going to place a _Confundus_ spell on them both, Portkey Severus to one place and Harry to another, give them each a sickle, and tell them to find each other." His magical eye was wandering.

Remus threw his head back and laughed long. "Oh, we can't not do it!" he exclaimed as the occupants of the other table looked over at them, Kahealani smiling at him shyly. Nodding to her, he waved the rest of them off and when they turned their attention back to their conversations, he leaned in conspiratorially to Moody--"What else did you have in mind?"

The grin on Moody's face would have made it worthwhile, if for no other reason than he seemed cheered, but--Remus wanted to see the look on the auld sod's face, too.

* * *

End Part II  
TBC in Part III : The Beginning of Forever

* * *


	29. Part III : When Dreams Turn Into Reality

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Twenty Nine : When Dreams Turn Into Reality**

_Edited for FFnet--401 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods. I apologise if this feels choppy in any way, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site._

**25 and 26 October 2003**

"I'm fine," was followed by a tired yet impatient sigh.

Harry shook his head, trying hard not to laugh at the petulant tone. Instead, he concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other without falling over. Now that they were alone in the corridor just outside the Room of Requirement (and he thanked every god he could think of that _someone_ had the foresight to leave them alone) he _finally_ could give in to the urge he'd had all evening to coddle Severus. His own fatigue running over him like an insulted Hippogriff, he drew Severus' arm about his shoulders and put his other arm around his lover's waist to steady him.

"Will you stop _fussing_?" came next with a fierce bark, but no bite.

Harry rolled his eyes at Severus' latest request, settling his weight half on his shoulders. "Certainly, love, just as soon as you stop weaving like a drunken spider."

A snort his only reply, Harry drew breath to earn another irritated comment (concerning how little Severus had eaten at the reception) when he felt a telltale tingle. With the next careful step, they found themselves only a few feet from their front door.

"Well, it looks like I'm going to have to take back everything bad I ever said about the old bugger," Harry remarked with a grin.

"Don't even think it!" Severus said sharply. "It's not _that_ special, and Albus owes us far more than a measly Wizarding space connection directly to our quarters." He glanced over at Harry with a half-smile. "Although, I must admit I am surprised he was sober enough to remember your half-soused musings that night _you_ let him in."

Harry chuckled, thinking privately that regardless of how it had occurred, it was probably all to the good; the way they were stumbling, anyone watching would think them three, possibly even five sheets to the wind from imbibing too much of the Muggle champagne (which Severus had dryly remarked was just like Albus--a little sweeter than he normally liked).

"I heard that," Severus growled. "I am _not_ inebriated."

"Didn't think you were," Harry replied reasonably, "although you should be, considering how little you ate. And don't tell me you're not famished; your stomach's rumbling in harmony with mine."

"Wasn't all that hungry," Severus muttered. "Well, at least not for what could be _publicly_ consumed."

Harry glanced in mock alarm at Severus and sniggered as he watched him struggle to contain his smile.

His arm, snug around Severus' waist, tightened as he opened the door. All joking aside, he couldn't decide who was more fatigued, him or the man with half his weight leaning on him. And to his mind, this presented a problem. Despite their suggestive banter, Severus was functioning on almost pure magic and nerve. Other than a token glass of champagne for toasting, he'd drunk only water, and had eaten nothing that Harry knew of. There was a dullness to his thoughts quite opposite his normal sharpness. He could feel the cramps pulsing across his new husband's back and shoulders echoing in his own; if the sharp pains and hint of lead invading his legs were any indication, Severus was moving about as well as a nutcracker left up in an attic too long.

And he couldn't heal him, not yet. Quiesta and Dumbledore, both quite urgent, had pulled him aside during the reception to tell him that, until the curse was broken, he could do nothing.

However, the weariness they both felt did not stop the bond from burning through them, making them ache with a different, albeit more pleasant, kind of discomfort, and he wondered how he was ever going to temper his desires long enough to let Severus get the sleep the practical side of his mind knew he needed. He needn't have bothered.

Severus knew he was fast reaching the end of his patience, among other things. He couldn't fathom why everyone was kicking up such a fuss; so he'd spent some time in the infirmary. If he had a Galleon for every time he'd awakened there... Still, though his energy reserves were almost non-existent, the bond buzzed urgently through his veins, making sluggish blood flow faster, causing aching muscles to twitch with arousal. And he intended to do something about _that_. Now.

The second the latch snicked shut, Severus swung around and pulled Harry roughly into his arms, leaning them both against the door. Dimly he heard himself mutter something about 'second winds' before he claimed the kiss he'd been wanting for hours. When they started to sag, he turned them until he felt Harry half-lying on him, his own back to the door for support. Then he got serious about it.

Harry felt his knees start to buckle under the onslaught of Severus' impatience, grateful for the leg Severus propped up slightly on the door moulding on which he braced himself. There was nothing gentle about their kiss, their bodies pulled oh so close. This was not simple gratification, _this_ was about separations and reunions and joinings. Severus' hands gripped hard, pulling Harry relentlessly against him.

Severus tore his lips away as one arm snaked around Harry's shoulders. When Harry's head leaned back on it, Severus dipped and, with low growls, suckled the soft skin under Harry's ear.

"This is your--" Harry choked out as Severus sucked hard against the skin right beside his jaw, "--second wind?" He gasped as Severus pulled him closer. "Ahhh, gods, it burns." Harry pressed up against his lover, trying to mould them into one body. "Want to see--ahhh, yesss, right there--your first wind."

His wet mouth feasting greedily on the vibrations from Harry's cries, Severus added his own with a low "Mmmm hmmm," as his uncontrolled magic started buttons popping off Harry's high-necked inner robe. Demanding lips chased down the newly revealed skin of Harry's throat, eagerly wandering lower to softer territory, relishing the painful grip of Harry's hands buried in his hair. Harry arched against him, his head falling back further in complete abandon. Spurred by the sight of Harry's wanton surrender, Severus tasted every inch of the offering beneath his mouth, his appetite whetted by the soft mewling noises Harry was helpless to stop.

One hand, untangling from silky strands, slid under Severus' outer robes, fastening securely around his waist. Tightening his arm, Harry pulled his lover even closer. With ripples of raw sensation running rampant through him, Harry couldn't take it anymore and, with a husky, "Oh gods, I love your mouth," he roughly pulled on Severus' head, his hand still fisted in his hair, bringing that delectable mouth back up to his own. Beginning his own exploration, he returned Severus' ardour in full measure.

The bond pulling at them both, Severus fell into Harry's possessive kiss. Dizzy, he felt them moving inexorably towards the completion of something wrought long ago, but only recognized tonight. Compelled beyond anything he'd ever known before, he angled his head, deepening it. He knew without a doubt what he _wanted_, and he wanted it _now_.

Bodies straining against each other as much as their mouths, they balanced precariously as each clutched the other closer. Harry thought he would implode with the sensations running so strong, but it wasn't enough, not _nearly_ enough. With one hand, Harry tugged at the collar of Severus' outer robe, intent on ripping it off if he had to, when dimly, and then with a growing, reluctant awareness, he felt a powerful surge of magic emanating from elsewhere within their chambers. And he obviously wasn't the only one feeling it. Dazed, Severus broke off the kiss, groaning as he rested his forehead against Harry's. "What the _fuck_ is it _now_?" he groaned, gasping for air.

Taking a moment to reorient himself, Harry took a deep gulp of air, trying to slow his breathing, only to release it fruitlessly in a long drawn-out sigh. "I don't know," he panted, "but maybe if we ignore it long enough it'll go away?" he asked, nibbling tenderly on a swollen bottom lip.

"I doubt it," Severus murmured, taking Harry's mouth in another heart-stopping kiss. Harry moaned; while tender and nothing like their predecessors, it renewed the desire flooding him. However, the foreign magic curled around them, soon breaking their concentration again. "Damn. Whatever it is, it's growing," Severus growled. He moved his arm from around Harry's shoulders. Using the leg braced against the door, he pushed himself upright, wincing.

Pulling away and straightening, Harry put a hand on his arm. "Sev, stay here. I'll go see what's up; you get ready to rescue me."

"Insufferable Gryffindor," Severus replied with no heat. "Go to your doom, I'm too damned tired to argue with you." As Harry moved off with a quick kiss and a grin, his wand cautiously drawn nonetheless, Severus murmured, "Probably some 'thing' or other Albus left us to make our night just as _entertaining_ as our day has been. Cheeky bugger." Sighing in frustration, he could feel the powerful surge of energy he'd been enjoying a few moments before starting to wane. He leaned his shoulder against the wall of the entry, waiting for Harry to call for help. Relaxing a bit when all remained silent, he lost his battle with the impending exhaustion he could no longer hold at bay; it didn't take long for his head to fall to his chest, his eyes slowly drooping closed.

A few minutes later, Harry was by his side, waking him gently when he lifted his face with a cupped hand and a chaste kiss. "Uh, Sev? You've got to _see_ this to believe it." Snorting sceptically, Severus wearily pushed off the wall, leaning just a bit onto Harry by his side.

He could smell it long before he saw it--clover and freesia and a myriad of other 'green' smells he associated exclusively with springtime and Harry. It brought to mind that first spring they'd gone together to collect the clover. He'd always done it alone, but Harry had insisted he go with him that year and when they'd arrived, he'd known why, too. Harry had wanted to watch his reaction when he'd seen Harry's 'gift' to him; the entire field, heavily laden with plump heads of purple clover, had also been seeded with freesia, undoubtedly Severus' favourite flower.

Now, like then, he closed his eyes, breathing in the delicate scent of clover overlaid with the heavier sweetness of the red and yellow freesia blossoms which bore the most fragrance; the white ones never came close to this heady perfume. Every spring from then on, Harry had harvested the freesia along with the clover, always keeping vases of the tall stems in every room for as long as they lasted, their lengths covered with the hanging bell-shaped flowers all lined up like little children waiting for class; he always came home lighter of heart for having them there.

Now, though, he stepped from the hallway into a meadow, their bed an incongruous sight in the middle of the full blooming field. "Hmmm. Dobby I presume?"

Harry laughed. "That would be my guess. Has a certain house-elf feel to it, doesn't it?"

"Amazing what they remember," Severus mused, taking in the sight of all the pink and green filling the room from the window seats to the fireplace, neatly stopping at both doors into the chamber. The telltale surge of magic that had drawn them here in the first place was fading fast now that its task was complete, leaving behind it a warm room filled with soft breezes--a small haven of spring in the middle of a cold Scottish castle. He was about to comment about the amount of magic required to do something this immense when a pair of warm arms wrapped around him from behind, softly nosing his hair out of the way to lay wet kisses on the back of his neck.

Severus was tiring; Harry could feel it strongly, and while he wouldn't say he felt energised, he also wouldn't say he was really all _that_ weary anymore. Severus was not the only one with a second wind. Trailing his hands along his mate's body, he came around to face him, their mouths joining in a serious kiss, their senses filled with the scents of pleasant memory. Severus tightened his arms around his mate when he received the vision Harry couldn't hold in of Severus bearing him down to the ground that first spring, of spending their pleasure amidst the tall grasses surrounding them, hidden from the casual observer.

The kiss broken, soft nips of lips followed, ending with Severus burying his forehead in Harry's neck to hide a huge yawn. When Harry chuckled ruefully, Severus pulled back to look at him, apologetic. "I'm afraid I'm not up to much more tonight. Can't figure out," another yawn interrupted, "awwhh, why I'm so bloody tired." Eyes watering he loosed a hand from around Harry to wipe at them. Harry smiled at the child-like gesture when Severus mumbled, "Feel like an energy vampire got me."

"Come, love, I think it's time for bed," Harry said, a wry grin on his face, leading him through the field.

Severus couldn't even summon the energy for a leer. Standing by the side of the bed, it was all he could do not to just fall into it, clothes and all. Content to let him do the honours, Harry started to tug on the outer robe, intent on pulling it off; it wouldn't budge.

"I think they used some kind of spell--" yawn "--to keep them from slipping off because they're--" and another "--not quite touching my skin," Severus remarked, his hand over his mouth. "Sorry, it's the hour, not the company."

Chuckling, Harry remarked, "Glad to hear it. Wouldn't do to be boring you this soon, now would it?" He raised his wand. "_Finite Incantatum_," he spelled. Nothing happened. Shrugging, Harry tried once again to pull off Severus' robe. It was still stuck. Biting his lip, Harry cast the usual spell for removing clothing. "Hmmm. That certainly worked well," he said dryly and burst out laughing because now Severus had no shoes and socks and all the frogs down the front of the inner robe were undone, but the rest of it was still firmly in place. At the affronted look Severus gave him, he chortled, "Although I have to admit, the view is rather fetching," as he parted the robe in the front, giving him a nice eyeful of Severus' lower half.

Not able to resist the tempting sight in front of him, Harry slid his hands under the robes. "Mmmm, _this_ is what I've wanted all evening," he murmured and gasped as he felt an echoing sensation trail along his own torso. Curious now, he trailed his hands over Severus' back; his own body responded as if he'd been the one touched.

"This is decidedly unfair and one sided, I'll have you know," Severus groused good naturedly.

Harry sighed and, abandoning his experiment a moment, he slid his hands up Severus' sides and up to his shoulders under the heavy silk, trying to shift them off. "Never seen a man so loath to undress," Harry muttered, pulling his wand to cast another spell, and another, until he'd exhausted his supply. Severus was by now swaying in place, half-asleep. "I'm sorry, Severus, I can't see any other way around it, unless you have something else I can try?" When Severus shook his head, Harry cast a banishing spell. The robes disappeared with a wisp of smoke. "Oh well," he said wistfully, "we can always get others."

It only took a small push for Harry to get Severus sitting on the bed. It was a matter of a few movements to get his own robes and footwear off; he left them where they fell. He'd no more turned back towards the bed, when Severus' long arms snaked out and pulled him down for another kiss.

As Harry pulled away to join his lover on the edge of the bed, thinking of the joys of being horizontal, Severus hissed in pain, bending over.

Harry felt an ache ripple in his own back and realised Severus had over-extended muscles still too stiff to stretch much. He immediately dropped to his haunches, his arms around his lover as he helped him straighten and, with the soft candlelight in the room, Harry found himself staring into the most hate-filled pair of eyes he'd ever seen. He cried out, instinctively falling back on his bum in the soft grass of the field; he knew he'd seen the curse marks in his visions, but nothing had prepared him for what they actually looked like in person.

His desire gone, he pulled himself up back onto his knees at the same time Severus looked down. "What the hell?" Severus began, his hands rising from the bed.

"No!" Harry cried, pulling his hands away. "Don't touch it," he continued, "I don't know--"

"What is it?" Severus asked urgently, interrupting him.

Incredulous, Harry tilted his head at him. He took Severus' hands in his own as he asked, "Don't you remember?"

Shaking his head, Severus replied, "No, I think I would remember _that_," he looked down again, "whatever that _is_."

Harry could feel their pulses pounding in his hands. He lifted one of his own, and sitting on the side of the bed, his hand cupped the side of Severus' face, turning it towards him. "I'm not sure what it is, but I was told it's the mark of a _Confundus Desparo_ curse. Does that help any?" Severus face drained of any remaining colour. With alarm, Harry leaned forward, taking him in his arms. Awkwardly, still holding onto him, he stood and gently laid Severus down on the bed on his side, climbing in quickly next to him.

"Who?" Severus choked out.

"Avery."

Severus' eyes closed, his breathing harsh as he tried to get his involuntary reaction under control. It took a few seconds for Harry's, "Quiesta and Dumbledore contained it; it's dormant for now," to register in his numb brain. Dormant? How the hell does one make it dormant? The only thing a curse of Avery's making meant to him was domination and a messy death.

Little things that hadn't added up throughout the evening suddenly began to make sense. Quiesta checking to make sure it was still 'intact', the worry he'd seen in Poppy's and Albus' eyes, the way everyone had treated him like he was made of glass, his cycling exhaustion despite the pull of their bonds. He opened his eyes to return the concerned gaze of his husband.

At first angry that they'd held this little tidbit of information from him, he suddenly let out in one huff the breath he'd gathered. "Well, that certainly explains some things, and before you get upset on my behalf," he said noting the gathering clouds in Harry's eyes, "I truly don't remember anything, and it was probably a wise idea not to tell me. I know what they are, have seen first-hand what they can do, and am fully cognizant of Avery's skill in casting them. My knowledge of it could have interfered with our bonding tonight." He hated to admit it, but it was true. "No, it was probably best this way." He forbore to mention what it meant for the future. Tonight was not the time to discuss it, not when the exhaustion was returning with a vengeance.

He searched Harry's face, seeing fear and feeling a sense of inadequacy wash over him. "What's wrong, love," he asked gently, running his fingers down his husband's cheek.

Harry swallowed hard and, rolling over, gazed unseeing at the canopy overhead. "I'd never even heard of it before today and yet I'm told _I'm_ supposed to heal it, break its hold on you--and I have no idea how to do so." He turned his head to look at Severus, whispering, "I'm so afraid I'll hurt you."

Severus propped himself up on his elbow, hope warring with his bitter knowledge and, leaning over, gave Harry a soft kiss. "You can't, Harry, ever. That's the nature of the bond. Even if you wanted to, you could not harm me." He gave him a small smile. "Which could be grossly inconvenient should you ever tire of our relationship, but in this case, something to maybe make you feel better?"

Harry nodded and pulled Severus down to him. The ensuing kiss was sweet, but the fire and the bond lay banked. Which Harry thought was probably all for the best. So many ups and downs today, so much of himself expended, he knew he couldn't stay awake much longer. He broke off the kiss with a murmured, "I'll ask Quiesta tomorrow what I need to do."

Harry' fatigue mirroring his own, Severus rolled them over into their normal sleeping position, pulling him close. He thought of all the things he could say, but he didn't want to lie and settled instead for a simple, heartfelt, "I love you."

Harry lifted his head from his shoulder and their lips met in a serious kiss. All the fears and frustrations of the day washed away in the clean tide of Severus' love. Harry whimpered and Severus broke off the kiss, flooded with Harry's jumbled emotions, the strongest being relief and love. His hand framing Harry's face, he murmured, "Hush, love, I know. It's been a long day. We'll both feel better with some sleep, you'll see. And in the morning--"

Harry held him fiercely, as tightly as he could, his face buried in his shoulder. "Gods, I thought I lost you today. I couldn't find you. I wanted you so badly and you were there and I was here--" Barely under control, he breathed, "I love you. And I didn't really know just how _much_ until today."

Severus understood, he'd been in this same position, only years before. "It's never easy, is it?" was all he said, his face contorting as he smothered a yawn.

Harry nodded and, pulling loose from Severus' arms with a relieved smile, sat up. With a wave of his hand, and a muttered "_Nox_," the candles in the room dimmed, leaving a velvety darkness. He lay back down, snuggling close. Severus folded him in his arms, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. A few moments later, "And in the morning?" Harry asked, almost asleep.

Severus murmured drowsily, "We'll face it--together."

* * *

_Lucius leaned forward as he talked to Avery, who was sitting next to him by the fire. "You can do it?" Lucius asked, his eyes intent on the other man._

_Avery dismissed the incredulity in the question with a wave of hand. "Did it all the time with his Scaliness and **he** never put any personal effort into it, was always either me or The Pet who called them back." He shrugged. "Even without the Dark Mark, I don't see why we shouldn't be able to reactivate it. Must admit it's a shame the Potter brat managed to block the damned thing, but--"_

_"Potter didn't." At Avery's questioning glance, Lucius continued. "My source says that Potter was in his quarters for most of the afternoon. They brought in Quiesta to break it."_

_Avery wheezed in laughter. "Ha! Stupid bitch. She didn't break it then, she just contained it. Most annoying, of course, but I can get around anything **she** put in place. Once I reactivate it, it's a simple matter of taking little Sevvie on a walk off the Tower--I hear the sudden stop is quite amusing."_

"No! Albus promised he'd be safe!" Severus' sudden cry broke Harry's concentration.

He'd awakened earlier with Severus' thrashing, held in the throes of a nightmare. Harry had seen glimpses of the dream, his stomach turning as he watched Avery cut the eyes into Severus. Given what he'd seen in that brief glimpse, he was grateful Severus had suppressed the memories; they definitely would have prevented their binding had they emerged during the ceremony.

When Severus failed to calm down, Harry had got up and sat cross-legged on the bed, his knees by Severus' side. He'd gently rolled his lover onto his back and placed his hand in the center of his sweat soaked chest, hoping to reach him via their ward. With an unexpected twist of perspective, he'd felt himself falling into Severus, finding himself abruptly in what he'd first thought was his lover's dream, but after a while, with its feeling of cold reality, he'd finally realised he was actually _seeing_ Lucius and Avery. Unnerving to say the least, but he'd held onto whatever had drawn him here, his previous experience chasing Voldemort through his dreams more an asset now than it had ever been before.

Harry hazarded a glance at the clock--almost dawn, when people sleep the deepest. He knew the choice of time was no fluke; they'd counted on Severus and Harry being so sated from their bond-mating that they would never awaken in time. Harry chuckled grimly. He supposed their failure to complete _that_ aspect of their wedding night had served a purpose after all.

Closing his eyes, he used his free hand to take Severus', smoothing the back with his own, trying to comfort his husband through his continuing nightmare, which he now knew was different than what he was experiencing. Given the little he'd seen so far, he was convinced he was witnessing something impossible; _somehow_ he'd joined the link Avery had wrought to communicate with the curse. As he had when Severus' nightmare had first awakened him, he fell back into their new bond and waited. Within moments he entered the white nothingness of the ward; frustrated, he was about to back out when he felt _him_, Avery, his presence as evil as the curse Harry could now see forming before him like a dark cloud obscuring his vision. He tried to go to the place where he'd been before and, with a wrench, found himself back in Lucius' study, only this time, he sensed he had control of the ward as well. His return was timely.

_Avery was standing now, one hand braced on the mantel while, with closed eyes, he recited the components of the curse. "Mar, Chebel--" As the words poured forth smoothly, the curse stirred and then awoke, blazing forth with a black fire. Overwhelming, it soon spread to cover the former whiteness with a darkness deeper than midnight. Finished, Avery laughed. "See, I told you it was child's play. Now all I have to do is--" _

Harry had _seen_ enough. Severus, who had been moving as if trying to run away, suddenly lay still as if dead. Harry quickly ascertained his health was intact, but could not be so certain of his mind, which was closed to him. He paid no heed to the incoherent words Severus was mumbling, firming his touch on his lover's chest over the ward as much as to hold him in place as to give himself better contact with it. He sank back into the ward and pursued the connection Avery had made--as visible now as the line Dumbledore had made him follow earlier--right back to its genesis. Within seconds he saw the source and, with reckless ease, snapped the thread connecting Severus and Avery as if it were made of finely spun glass.

Harry realised with a keen sense of triumph that he could just as easily break the fragile life he now confronted; to kill Avery where he stood would be as simple as breathing. Greatly desiring what he'd sworn to do, he reached into Avery's heart with the _Sanos_ and held it still.

_He stopped, his rapidly paling face arrested in dawning fear. With a thin wail of pain, Avery's body went rigid, his breathing laboured. Falling to his knees, his hand clutched his upper left arm as he started to turn a fine shade of blue. Lucius leapt from the chair and sat Avery down. Drawing his wand, he cast a spell, but it brought no relief. Puzzled, Lucius sat back on his heels and watched his minion dying._

Just a few more seconds was all it would take; however, something, his conscience he supposed looking back on it later, held him back. To kill Avery in cold blood, using the very powers he used to heal, would be wrong--an anathema to his soul should he succumb. With a disgusted sigh aimed at himself, Harry regained his control and let go.

_Avery was on all fours on the floor, his head hanging down as his sides bellowed with the air he gulped in. "Fucking brat," was all he got out. Lucius looked thoughtful as he glanced around the room as if making sure they were alone._

Harry may have had a bout of conscience about killing Avery, but he knew it would not stop him from seeking some kind of retribution for the bastard's actions of the day against _his_ mate. _This_ he could do coldly, with a relatively clear conscience. Concentrating, he once again called on the _Sanos_ and with deliberate care, grabbed hard at Avery's pain centres.

_Avery arched off the floor, his body twisting into grotesque poses as he rose involuntarily and danced across the room trying to escape the agony flooding him from everywhere. Relentless, the pain pulsed into him. His eyes bulged, his breath hitched as muscles rippled and bunched. His body bent double as his diaphragm went into spasms only to shoot upright as the tendons in his back contracted mercilessly. For the better part of an hour it went on as every part of Avery twisted and turned in his desperation to escape. For brief moments, it would seem to let up, only to resume with double the force as bones bent and straightened, skin swelled and shrunk; it would seem his tormentor intended to leave no cell in his body untouched._

_Lucius' face was one of fascinated horror, and a small blood-thirsty smile crossed his lips as Avery cried out with keening wails. One time he murmured, "Harry Potter, I didn't know you had it in you," as he watched Avery's torture. With one last scream, Avery's whole body went rigid as every pain receptor in his body fired at once and, suddenly going limp, he fell in a still, ragged heap on the floor._

_Lucius stood and walked over to the fallen man, his fingers unerringly searching for a pulse. When he could see Avery, unconscious, taking a breath, he started laughing. "Well, I must admit, that was the most entertainment I've had this whole cursed day, Mr. Potter. My thanks to you. Too bad you're too cowardly to finish him off; a life for a life. Quite the dilemma there, isn't it--especially seeing you won't rid our esteemed Potions master of his little affliction unless you do so. I assure you it's quite permanent as long as Avery is alive. All you've done is delay the inevitable." With a short bark of laughter, he chortled, "I suggest you go back to your husband, such as he is, and enjoy him while you can."_

Dizzy, Harry broke the connection. The effort had brought him no joy and sickened him now; he felt a deep shame he'd abused the _Sanos_ the way he had. And he knew he would tell Severus; this was not something he could hide and, although he suspected Severus would understand, he knew he probably wouldn't approve.

But first he needed a husband to whom he could tell the tale. Lucius' assurances rang in his head with a truth he couldn't deny, leaving Harry with no doubts that he needed to break the curse--now. He couldn't wait until Severus was recovered enough to stand it as he'd originally thought, nor could it wait until _he_ was ready.

He crawled over to the bedside table and, after struggling with the drawer, pulled out a vial of the restorative. He looked at it speculatively. Did he dare take it now? Would it make him sleep? Resolved, he broke the seal, drinking the potion down, trusting in his own urgency to counteract any inclinations to doze off from it. It flowed warm through him, almost like having Severus inside him. Within moments, he felt better, less disoriented, the dizziness leaving him.

He gazed at his bondmate, now quietly sleeping, and felt an overwhelming surge of love and fierce protectiveness towards him. No matter the personal cost, he'd vowed, and he meant it. Not daring to even touch him lest he wake him, and with a lighter heart, Harry cast a staying charm on Severus to keep him from leaving the bed and an alarm charm on his wand to sound a warning should Severus be in distress again.

Creeping quietly out of his marriage bed, Harry wasn't really sure what he'd expected on his wedding night, but he was quite certain this was not it. Donning his dressing gown, he made his way to the library.

* * *

TBC


	30. Part III : A Curse Upon Thee

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Thirty : A Curse Upon Thee**

**26 October 2003**

After carefully picking his way through Dobby's field, Harry strode through the hallway into Severus' study. He skirted the sofa on his way to the back wall, his nervous energy such that the hidden door to the library appeared and opened before he'd even finished speaking the words of command. Entering the Wizarding space, he closed the opening behind him, sealing himself into the room.

Overrun with urgency, he gave perfunctory attention to the glyph as he activated its protection. A soft pinging filled the chamber followed by a short gong sound. Harry groaned. He'd forgot that Albus (Severus wisely silent on the subject) had made a contingency system for him should he ever work here alone. Cagily anticipating the younger man's rebellion, he'd set up a second layer of security to keep 'the dear boy' out of trouble, rather like the training wheels on Dudley's first bike. Harry had come to understand the wisdom of the system, but still, he felt (especially at this late hour) a grim sort of satisfaction that he'd just awakened the old bugger, although he prudently hoped Poppy wasn't too cross with the interruption of their sleep.

Free now to work, he faced the library, awed as always at the sheer number of books and scrolls lying haphazardly around the space. Severus assured him there was absolutely no rhyme nor reason as to its organization and looking on it, Harry could well believe it. No sorting, nothing by alpha--as Severus had pointed out, if _he_ couldn't find it, then no one else could either. Instead, there was a spell one used, literally "Find 'X'", with the name of the book if one were looking for a specific volume (which was how Severus tended to look for information) whereas Harry's looser searches by subject required a different approach. The three of them had laboured days to create the correct spells, both to summon and filter; after all, how could Harry be expected to find a specific volume if he'd never read any of them? So instead of the book sailing over to him (as they did for Severus), his selections chimed and glowed until he'd looked at them all or ended the spell. He could only take down one volume at a time, but generally the process was fairly fast.

Tonight he called out "_Expiscor 'Confundus Desparo'_." Immediately a discordant cacophony broke loose as dozens of books rang simultaneously, each trying to vie for his attention. With a loud, "_Quaero Remedium Nostrum_," spoken over the clamouring to cull the selections, the last syllable fell in a silent room. No cures it seemed. Fighting his discouragement, he tried a different tack. "_Quaero Medicari_." This time one lone, entirely too tiny book chimed from the back. With a quick, "_Accio Librum_," the little book sailed over to him, settling gently on the table.

He laid his hand flat over the book as Severus had shown him, whispering, "_Reperio_." The pages started riffling as though blown by a stiff breeze until they remained open near the middle. Harry sat down, pulled the book firmly over the glyph and began to read.

A small while later, he sat back in the chair, his mind awhirl. Reading the nature of the curse, a vengeful bloodlust had coursed through him; with difficulty, he concentrated on the convoluted task before him instead of regretting he'd let Avery escape real retribution. Hope warred with a fear of failure as he struggled to grasp the scope of what he was expected to do to 'cure' this thing. His objectivity fled when he realised that even if he did manage to do the impossible, the chances of success were only as good as _Severus_ believed them to be. Given the panic and hopelessness Harry had seen previously in his lover's eyes, those odds easily fell below even.

After committing the contents to memory, a mnemonic feat accomplished only through long habit, he sent the book back to the shelf. Several fruitless searches later, he gave up looking for a surer way and prepared to start. Trying to clear his mind by conventional means proved futile, so he fell back on the very first lesson he'd learned under Poppy's tutelage and later refined by Quiesta; find a focal point, study it, and block out everything else. The only thing of that nature to hand was the glyph in the center of the table.

Taking a deep cleansing breath, Harry stared at it until the rest of the room faded from his sight. He studied it in detail, examining the snakes and their scales and the lover's knots and the...

Soon, his mind floating in a trance, a vision of the glyph, flipping like a coin when tossed, filled his inner sight. End over end it fell, seemingly forever until, with a dull clang, it landed on a smooth nondescript surface, the edge spinning, rattling through its final gyrations before coming to a complete stop. Curious, he leaned over it in his mind to see if it was heads or tails.

Heads or tails? How could a coin with the same image on both faces have different sides?

A sense of excitement pervaded him. Albus' words about finding out _how_ he'd accomplished what he'd done came to mind. What _had_ he done? Hurriedly, he went over the sequence of yesterday's events: pain, panic, running into the library, waiting for the glyph to open, impatiently reaching in, trying to reach Severus, a wrench of reality...

A wrench of reality.

He stopped there, recalling his state of mind--frantic, determined, his intent to reach Severus overriding all conscious thought.

Intent. What had been his _intent_? It was coming to him--closer, closer--there!

He saw it: his intent had been to reach his lover, plain and simple. He'd wanted, _needed_ to find him, to touch him and when the glyph had not given him what he'd desired, he'd imbued it with his impatience, _making_ a place, a bridge. The white nothingness.

Why? Why had it been necessary?

To reach Severus--miles away--through their ward--to protect.

He understood.

The white nothingness was something he'd created as an internal manifestation of his and Severus' wards, with the glyph still its physical embodiment.

But how? How could he have done this, the impossible?

He dropped out of the trance, still concentrating on his internal musings. He stared at the glyph in the surface of the table; it _looked_ the same. His hand shaking, he placed his fingertips on its carved surface and almost snatched them back. It wasn't--simple--anymore; he'd changed it.

Not possible.

He shook his head. All right, it _was_ possible; he would have to accept that if only because of the irrefutable evidence under his own hand.

What was different?

He searched, and within moments felt its causal duality--one passive, one active; it now had _two_ sides. Not physically, of course, or at least he didn't think so, but in purpose. Whereas before, it had just _contained_ the ward, now it _WAS_ the ward and--more. He examined it further, sensing something else there as well. The flavour was familiar, the feel of it.

What was it?

And then he saw it.

Their marriage bonds had been added. Before tonight, when he'd worked with it earlier in the afternoon, it had only contained their handfasting bonds; however, it seemed he'd subsequently changed it when he'd broken the connection between Severus and Avery.

Without conscious thought. Without touching it this time.

How the hell could he do that? Fear coursed through him. What else could he change without knowing it? He lost his train of thought as blind panic seized him.

_'Damn it, Harry, concentrate. Severus' life is at risk as long as you remain ignorant of what you've done.'_

With this admonishment to himself and a few deep breaths, he set about solving this last mystery in a logical manner.

All right, back to basics. How does one define anything magical?

The answer was immediate--through its _Schema_. Was the _Schema_ of the glyph the same?

He reached into the physical embodiment of their ward and could instantly see where it had been changed. Tracing its evolution proved easy and within moments understood--he'd unconsciously reached into their ward and merged it with their bonds by changing its _Schema_.

_He Changed The Schema And Made A New One._

Before he could succumb to the fear threatening to overpower him, he focused on a sensation fluttering against his awareness like a bird trying to get through a closed glass window, overriding the questions hovering on the edge of his consciousness. Staying silent and open inside, his hand still in contact with the glyph, he began to clearly see his connections to everything around him; a wondrous extension of the vows he'd made. How all he was and would be, tied to those he loved and loved him in return. How he, Harry, _fit_ into the plethora of _Schema_ he could now sense around him, at once overwhelmingly huge and infinitesimally small. How his goodness balanced his evil. The two sides of himself, the two sides of the glyph, the two sides of everything that exists.

Balance, something of which Albus (all his teachers really) constantly spoke, now took on whole new worlds of meaning.

In a daze, Harry broke contact with the glyph, although the new-found equilibrium remained within him. He closed the library, making certain the wards were secure. Staggering into the middle of Severus' study by his desk, he pulled the chair out to sit and think through the ramifications of what he'd just discovered about himself and the place he occupied. The discomfort from the hard seat distracted him and, without conscious thought, he reached into it and changed its _Schema_ to that of a comfy leather desk chair. Squirming into the seat with relief, it dawned on him what he'd just done.

Could he do it again?

Heart pounding, he stood and plucked a piece of blank parchment off of the desk, placing it well away from him on the floor. Stepping back, he reached into it, quickly finding its _Schema_ and, without touching it or uttering a sound, changed it to a duplicate of the chair sitting at Severus' desk. He stared at it. He'd not Transfigured it. He'd _made_ it. And he still didn't know how.

He suddenly thought about the time when he'd changed the tea in Cerise's painting to firewhiskey. In that case, he had used the _Sanos_ to change the _Schema_, step by step, from one thing to the other in an established Transfiguration pattern. Or so he'd thought. Had he, in reality, simply changed it in _this_ manner with the _Sanos_ as a screen hiding what he'd really been doing? And his healing, when he linked two people together like Ben and Kalani; Quiesta had told him the skill was unique. Was it tied to this? Could he really have been changing their _Schema_ using the _Sanos_?

He had no concrete answers, but he _could_ see how far he could take it. Quickly, Severus' quill followed the parchment and soon a third chair sat next to the second. A hair tie, with more concentration, became the fourth chair. The fifth, coming from a piece of lint off his dressing gown, made him sweat with the effort.

Closing his eyes, he sank into the place he used to heal, the place of his highest concentration. Sensing the very molecules in the air and pushing some power into it, he tried to change one of them into the sixth chair, He gave up after a few moments which, he thought with some dark amusement, was just as well as the room was becoming quite crowded with huge leather chairs. While he didn't succeed, he suspected that once he understood the _nature_ of the air, he could probably do it.

"I'm rather partial to the one in the middle, myself," Severus commented dryly from the doorway, casually leaning on the cased opening, his arms crossed, one hand loosely holding his wand over the sleeve of his dressing gown.

Harry jumped, whirling around, his mouth gaping open. He put his hand on his chest. "Damn it, don't DO that!"

"Do what?" Severus asked innocently. "And while we're on the subject, is there a reason you're standing in the middle of my study making chairs?"

"I thought you were sleeping," Harry hedged.

"You were gone, I woke up. I must say, this is some strong magic you're doing there."

"I--I came in here to look in the library."

"And needed a new chair? I must admit I am quite ready to retire the old one. It's always nice to have a choice, but do you think it would be possible to get one in, perhaps, a nice hunter green? This Gryffindor red is a little too racy for me."

"Don't like the colour?" Harry reached out and put his hand on the third chair. "This one?" When Severus nodded, Harry concentrated, chuckling, and the chair turned a brilliant neon chartreuse. "One hunter's green for your sitting enjoyment."

"You weren't joking when you said you didn't know colours, were you?"

"You said 'hunter green'. This is the green hunters wear out in the field."

Severus tried hard not to smile. Instead, he waved his wand with a "_Slytherin Verdigris_," and the chair turn a dark Slytherin green. "Ah, there. _Much_ better." He moved over to sit in his new chair, settling his bottom comfortably in the seat. "Very nice," he commented. "So tell me, why so many?"

Harry looked a little chagrined. Sitting in the chair next to Severus, he said, "Actually, I was trying figure out what it was I'd done..."

Elbow resting on the arm of his new chair, his face cupped in his hand, Severus eyed him. "Other than changing the _Schema_? Is there something else I should know about?"

Harry stared at him. "You knew about that?"

Severus took pity on him. "I've 'known' since you were sixteen. Albus encouraged you to use the ability every chance he got, but..."

"I know--you weren't supposed to tell me."

"Not exactly. Albus left that part of your education strictly to me."

"So _you_ decided not to tell me?"

"Hmmm. Not consciously, I suppose. Never occurred to me to make an issue of it. While the speed with which you learned the _Schema_ was nothing short of amazing, _what_ you were doing with it was not exactly unique. I mean all the disciplines use the changing of _Schema_ to make new spells and potions and Transfigurations, although I admit there are fewer people with the ability to do so than one would think."

"I know, but that's not what I just did. Nor is it what I did earlier today." Sitting in the first fruit of his labours, he chuckled. "I think I now know one of Albus' secrets--conjuring chairs out of thin air, indeed." Severus eyes widened slightly. "I'm sure it will take some practice, but I'm fairly certain I can change the _Schema_ of almost anything--whether I know anything about it or not."

"I see," Severus said thoughtfully. "You changed these chairs out of what?"

"Your old chair, a parchment, a quill, a hair tie, and a piece of lint."

"You can change them back? I just got that quill broken in."

Harry smiled at the normalcy of the request. It helped put the whole thing in perspective as did Severus' casual acceptance of it. "Um, the quill made the green one."

"Ah. That would explain why I'm becoming quite attached to it. Leave it, there will be other quills."

Mindful of Severus' raised brow and avid curiosity, Harry wordlessly changed the others back to their original forms without touching them, an easier task since he was already familiar with their original _Schema_. He wondered if knowing the _Schema_ of something made the transition harder or easier. After a few moments of thought, he concluded it was both. If he already knew the _Schema_ there would always be the tendency to try to change it back to its original form, something he would have to override if he were trying to make something new. The thought was sobering, especially considering his healing. However, if he were just trying to restore something to its original form...

He sat up. Wait a minute! If he could do this with their ward and the glyph and the chairs, could he change the curse as well? Could he reverse the curse by manipulating its _Schema_? Hope pulsed through him with his pounding blood. He gazed at his husband for several long seconds. His spirits sinking, he conceded that theory was far from practice. But he had to do _something_. The course of action detailed in the book was near impossible given the circumstances and would take days, leaving Severus vulnerable to further attacks by Avery.

Severus, who had been quietly watching his husband's expressive face as well as the unbidden images dancing across his inner vision, had little difficulty following Harry's train of thought, although the things he glimpsed about Avery confused him a bit. Responding to the blind panic warring with the hope dancing across his lover's face, Severus leaned over and took one of the hands folding his robe between nervous fingers. When he had Harry's undivided attention, he said quietly, "You can't hurt me, love. And at this point we have nothing to lose; I know what you found in the library and I know what your chances are of success. If you want to try, I'm willing."

Harry nodded. He stood, not letting go of Severus' hand, pulling him up with him until they were standing face-to-face. Severus folded him into his arms, holding him close. "I know you say I can't harm you," Harry whispered into Severus' shoulder, "but I'm scared I will. This _thing_--I do: I don't know its limits, I don't know what I'm doing with it."

Severus kissed his temple, pulling away enough to look Harry cleanly in the eyes. "Perhaps not, but _I_ know you; I _feel_ your heart. You won't harm me."

Harry murmured, "Gods, I wish I had your confidence in me."

Severus chuckled before claiming his lips in a serious kiss, one of support, of giving their hearts to one another. Harry drew from Severus a strength he desperately needed whereas Severus took Harry's boundless hope and made it his own. Deeper they took it, their bonds wakening, wrapping them into one person, one need, one gift, one purpose. Together, yet apart.

Breaking the kiss, Severus took Harry's hand and resolutely led him back to their bedchamber, the grass scratchy on his bare feet. Dropping his dressing gown to the ground, he climbed into the bed from Harry's side, crawling over to his own. He lay on his side facing his mate, his eyes neutral in the dim light. Harry followed and when on his side facing him, Severus pulled the covers snugly over them both and scooted over until their bodies were almost touching.

Harry took a deep breath, afraid to his core he would hurt Severus, but a small smile lit his face as he remembered that Severus had said he couldn't hurt _him_ because of their bond. He gave his lover a soft kiss with a lighter heart. "Are you ready?" he asked solemnly.

Fingers trailing down Harry's cheek, Severus replied, "I am if you are."

Harry nodded, turning his head slightly to kiss Severus' palm. Eyes fixed on his mate, he steeled himself, moving his hand to gingerly touch one of the eyes carved in his husband's flesh. Shuddering in revulsion, he could feel the dark magic singing through the half-healed wound. His eyes glazing, he studied it; he could see its _Schema_, and concentrating, but not really knowing _what_ he was doing, he tried to change it. He briefly felt a small wrench within it, but all too soon felt its malevolence as strongly as he had in the beginning. At least he'd not made it worse. Probing it further, he quickly realised the eyes were nothing more than a marker; like the glyph was to the ward, it was a physical embodiment of the curse, but it was not the curse itself. _That_ was inside.

He inched his hand further along Severus' chest and placed his palm carefully over the Mark of their ward, and, with relief, Harry felt its clean magic. Severus moved his hand to cover his. Resting his head along Severus' arm, he gently opened the bond, falling easily into the white nothingness of their ward.

He'd have to be blind to miss the curse now, pulsing hatefully within Severus, its darkness larger and stronger than the last time he'd been here. He first checked the strength of the ward itself and when he saw its depletion, he gave it some of himself making it blaze forth. With grim amusement he noted the curse shrinking back from it, like a vampire when faced with the sun. Relentlessly he stalked it and, figuratively wading into the middle of it, he quickly found its _Schema_. Clueless as to what it _could_ be changed into, he acted on his instincts, turning the curse's _Schema_ into something he did know--their ward.

Searing pain ripped through him as the two unexpectedly tried to merge and he pressed his palm more firmly to Severus' Mark, riding it out. Severus' bruising grip on his hand held on as a small cry burst forth, his body tense, fighting the urge to pull away. Time stood still as the ward, fuelled by Harry's magic and their bond, consumed the new _Schema_, making it one with itself. Blinded by its ensuing brilliance, Harry could only wait, hoping he'd done the right thing.

As suddenly as it had begun, it was over, the ward mark burning beneath his hand. Sweating freely, Harry gently probed it and found it had grown with the new addition, not only in Severus but in himself as well. The coin had been flipped--evil into good. Severus lay still, panting, his skin hot, but the steady beat of his heart under Harry's hand was reassuring. He used his hand to push damp strands of hair back from his lover's face, catching his breath; now he only had the eyes and the rest of Severus' healing to accomplish, small tasks compared to what they'd just endured.

Wonder filling his voice, Severus croaked out, "I can't believe you just did that," and leaning in, kissed him. "Thank you."

Harry shifted closer, their legs tangling under the covers. "Almost done, love," he murmured softly. Feeling Severus nod, he continued.

Tiring, yet filled with determination to finish this before he slept, he placed his fingertips again on one of the eyes. Finding its _Schema_ quickly, he first tried to eradicate it. In shock he felt his scar burn for the first time in years as if Voldemort were calling and when Severus flinched, he quickly stopped.

"Whatever _that_ was," Severus commented wryly, a little out of breath, "please don't do it again."

Chuckling grimly, Harry said, "No worries on that score. Made my scar burn and if my scar hurts, it can't be good." He snorted, "Nice to know I may have a built-in warning system if I step over the line, wherever that is."

"Well, consider this a boundary then," Severus remarked with some irony.

Thinking on it, Harry tried changing the mark to match the healthy skin around it with no success. He blew a noisy sigh in some frustration. Damn it, he'd just changed an entire curse and now this tiny bit of flesh confounded him. He wanted the eyes, with their reminder of his mate's ordeal, _gone_.

After several unsuccessful tries, he realised it was beyond his current abilities; they were there to stay. In this Lucius had been right; the eyes, at least, were permanent--for now. However, that did not mean he couldn't tweak them a bit as he could any other scar tissue. The _Sanos_ ringing, he fully healed them both and then modified them as far as he could, hoping his memory of their original configuration was accurate.

He felt Severus touch his face. Harry opened his eyes, greeted by his lover's dark gaze. "No matter. As a _Mark_, I suspected they could not be removed," he said resigned, as if that explained everything.

And in a way, it did. "So I gather. Not that the impossible would have been enough to stop me from trying in any event. Gryffindor stubbornness, don't you know."

"Hmmm. You have a point." He took Harry's hands between his own as he said in a querulous voice, "However shall this poor Slytherin survive."

Harry laughed. "I'm quite certain you'll think of something appropriate to keep me in line."

In better spirits, it took little effort afterwards to sink into the pathways and fully heal his husband; Severus fell asleep sometime in the middle, making the job easier for Harry in the long run. His husband would still be stiff, there was no helping it, but all the hidden hurts caused by the curse and his time away were gone. Time away--who was he trying to fool? Torture, plain and simple, although like most people, he shied away from such an ugly term. Tor-ture. There, he'd made himself think it again, the words a reality he didn't want to contemplate but knew he couldn't evade.

Severus certainly could not escape it. Maybe not tonight, maybe not even tomorrow, but at some time the nightmares _would_ come as the happenings of today echoed the deeds of the past, twisting his lover's sleep until broken by soft caresses and healing lips while strong arms and a ready body absorbed the cries of remembered pain and despair heard only in the darkest night. And in the light of day, the memories would be unmentioned, hidden behind eyes that could not completely meet his own, the loving given to the one speaking of a silent, desperate gratitude, the loving given by the other telling of a deep understanding with no need to explain.

Just one more thing to add to the Malfoy tally.

Yet they'd prevailed. All of them. Severus was his bondmate. Husband. The mere thought sent pleasant ripples through him. He snuggled closer, his arm snug around his lover's waist, wishing uncharitably that Severus would take him in his arms and love him in the dawning light of day. He smiled against the skin under his cheek; given the familiar light snores, Severus slept deeply and dreamlessly. Always a blessing when it happened.

He was so tired. With the smallest movements, he gently extricated himself to roll over. Scooting back, he settled his backside into Severus' front, burrowing his head into his pillow. Severus moved closer, throwing his arm over Harry's waist, all the bits of him pressed as close as he could get them; their legs tangling by habit. When Harry captured his arm, hugging it close, Severus' left arm wormed out from under him to settle on top of Harry's. This was nice. Very nice, indeed.

Harry curled his head forward to keep his unruly hair out of his lover's face, his heavy eyes sagging closed, lulled by the pulses felt in the arms holding him fast as much as the soft snuffles breezing down his back. His body relaxed by slow degrees, jerking a bit every now and again as his heart and breathing slowed to match his mate's, and quietly, he slipped into his dreams--

_--only to startle awake a few moments later, heart pounding as the afterimages of the Mosmorde he'd seen behind closed eyes, hung in front of him, the poison green of its light bathing him and Severus in an eerie glow. His scar ached. Voldemort. Voldemort was back and they were woefully unprepared. He instinctively pulled Severus closer, probing the area around him, trying to locate the bastard. He looked everywhere around them, searching. He won't get away this time. Have to find him, have to kill him. _

_He reached out with his mind and grabbed at the strong feeling of Voldemort's hidden presence and followed it as he had before in his dreams as a boy, eventually arriving at its source residing in a tiny spot lying over his arm. There, there he was, pressed tight to his forearm; it burned. He reached into it and, sensing the very thing that made it what it was, he twisted it until he couldn't feel it anymore. Panicked that he'd let his nemesis escape, Harry again went on the hunt; have to find him, have to kill him--_

"Harry." Soft lips pressed gently to his forehead. A strong, warm arm tightened around his waist. "Harry, wake up; it's only a dream," murmured through lips chasing across his cheeks and eyes. "Hush, love, it's all right, I'm here." A tender touch moved the sweat soaked hair out of his face, followed by kisses ghosting across his mouth. "You're safe. He's gone. We got rid of him, remember?" Fingers trailed sleepily down his side, making him shiver as he dragged himself the last few feet out of his dream.

"Severus?" he mumbled, still foggy and somehow on his back, barely able to make out in the dim light his lover turned on his side facing him, his head propped up on his elbow. "Sorry to wake you," he began only to be interrupted by warm fingers gentling his face, the tender kiss felt down to his toes.

"Mmmm, s'll right," Severus murmured, turning his head to hide a yawn. "Have to use the loo anyway." He gave Harry one more kiss, then asked, "You all right now?"

Harry smiled in the dark. "I'm awake, I think. I'm with you, so I must be all right."

Severus leaned over him again, nipping at his lower lip. He drew breath to speak, but instead 'hmmm'd' as he ran his tongue lightly over Harry's lips.

Instantly, achingly hard, Harry wanted to suck on that teasing tongue, but also knew that if they _both_ didn't go to the loo soon, it wouldn't matter how much they dallied, they'd never come. And he _really_ wanted to play. "Ahhh, I thought you said you needed to--oh, yes, right there--_go_," Harry reminded him breathlessly as warm lips nipped down his neck.

Severus didn't move right away, instead his tongue laved the spot where Harry's neck met his shoulder, earning him one of Harry's helpless, mewling noises. Breaking away finally with a groan, Severus rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled over Harry to get his dressing gown by the side of the bed. He left the room muttering something Harry was quite certain he didn't want to hear.

When Severus returned a few minutes later, he wordlessly picked up Harry's dressing gown off of the meadow and held it out to him on the end of one finger. Resigned, Harry climbed out of the warm bed, shivering as he pulled it on, tying it securely at the waist. Severus folded him into his arms and held him steady for a moment, then pulling back, kissed him, his tongue sliding in ever so slowly. Harry leaned into him, wanting to continue it, but something else was pressing at the moment, and, with a rueful chuckle, he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead on Severus' shoulder. "We'll not get far if I don't siphon the python soon."

Severus playfully dropped his hands down to squeeze his arse while nuzzling his neck. "Hurry back, I'm not going anywhere."

Harry slid sideways out his arms, barely evading a tickle aimed at his ribs. Shaking his head, he ambled off to the loo, the grass tickling his feet.

On his way out, he realised half his still-groggy state was due less to sleeplessness than to needing another dose of the restorative. Thinking he could take it after he and Severus had a little fun, he stumbled to his study, stubbing his foot on the sideboard near the entry. Swearing softly, he pulled his wand out of his pocket and lit it with a "_Lumos_," thinking he must be really out of it if he was banging about when normally he could traverse the apartment blind-folded. At the back of the room, he drew a familiar vial of clear amber liquid out of a locked cabinet, noticing his supply was running low. While he didn't want to bother Severus so soon, he knew any suggestion of obtaining more from an outside source would be greeted poorly, so he made a mental note to tell Severus tomorrow--no, today--that he needed more.

Leaving his wand lit, he made his way to the bedchamber envisioning what he'd like to do with his husband and was almost at the point of deciding that making Severus whimper first could be a pleasant pastime, when he stopped short, only a little disappointed that the game would have to wait. Standing by the side of the bed, he smiled; Severus was out cold, already starting to snore again. Chuckling wickedly, he thought that if he played this carefully, he could get some mileage out of it later. With some regret, he pulled the vial out of his pocket, popped the seal, and drank it down, knowing it would help him sleep.

Severus' left arm was outflung on the bed, waiting for him to slide into place. Harry was about to extinguish his wand when something about the whole pose struck him as wrong. Bending closer, he brought his wand over and then he saw it.

The Dark Mark was gone.

His hands shaking, he ran his fingers lightly over the smooth skin where before had been the remnants of Severus' Dark Mark. He looked up sharply as Severus stirred; raising himself up, he looked at the missing mark and than back to Harry with no comment but a raised brow. "Come to bed love," he said blandly, holding the covers up so Harry could slide in next to him. Harry quickly muttered, "_Nox_," and, stripping off the dressing gown, climbed into the bed. Severus settled him comfortably into _his_ spot, with a sleepy, "Sorry. My mind is willing, but the flesh is weak."

Harry snuggled in, Severus' heart beating strongly under his cheek, their legs comfortably tangled. He moved his hand a bit further up his chest, laying it flat on their Mark. "It's all right. I'm tired, too," he whispered trying to still the shaking of his body.

After several minutes, time in which Severus tried to soothe his lover with light caresses, he finally gave up trying to sleep for the moment. Despite his residual exhaustion, he tightened his arms around his precious burden, wondering what he more he could say to make it better. Harry was lying so quiet against him, but his body still shivered despite the covers and the warmth he lent him. Very softly, enunciating every word, he said, "You can't hurt me, Harry."

"I'm so sorry, Severus. I didn't mean..."

"Hush, love, we'll talk about it in the light of day after we've both slept. You must be exhausted and while I feel good, amazingly so, I can barely keep my eyes open." He moved Harry's hair out of his face. "Thank you. For everything."

"I would do anything for you, Severus. I love you. I'm just..."

"I know. I love you, too."

"Sev, how can you be so calm about all this?"

Severus settled deeper into the bed, his energy draining away. "I'm a teacher, remember? Potions gone wrong? Exploding cauldrons?" he murmured. "After these, everything else seems pretty tame in comparison." He stifled a yawn in his pillow.

Then Harry said what was really bothering him. "Why is it I can't feel you right now and I have no desire, yet a few minutes ago I wanted you so badly and could feel _us_ all over. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you. I suspect the bond adjusts to what we need at the moment. We only thought we wanted, but deep inside we _needed_ something different." He pulled Harry closer, kissing his forehead. "And you'd hear _us_ better if you'd stop listening to your fear."

Harry nodded, snuggling in when he felt Severus kiss the top of his head. "I'll try," he murmured, lifting his face in a tacit plea for kisses. Severus, hand cupped around his face, obliged him, and their kiss was sweet and undemanding. Not too long afterwards, Harry sighed and rested his head back in _his_ spot.

Sleep eluded him as he still shivered, wondering what he'd done _this_ time. And what would he do next time? Was Severus in any danger? Despite his mate's reassurances, he couldn't help but fear the consequences of this new talent and resolved to talk to Albus about it in the morning. Something about what he'd said led Harry to think that Albus, at least, had been expecting this development and was not displeased by it. Perhaps there was hope he could learn to control it.

And he had to wonder what had awakened Severus earlier. Was it his unintended manipulation of something as deep-seated as the Dark Mark, or was it the automatic sensitivity they both had to the dreams of the other? Perhaps both? Unless...

His heart pounding, Harry made the final connection. He'd been working _below_ Severus' consciousness. _This_ was the driving reason it had been _vital_ that Severus experience _and accept_ this unknown part of him _before_ they'd married. Had Severus rejected the bridge Harry had made, he would have died fighting him; Harry was humbled by the deep trust his mate had given him.

Damn the old bugger, Albus had been right; Harry _had_ needed to discover this ability on his own. He would never have believed it had he been told. But only _after_ the wedding. Had he known about this skill beforehand, he might have hesitated making vows, his fear of hurting Severus so fundamental, so profound, he would have freed Severus from their handfasting before taking any chance of harming him.

Now, according to Severus, Harry could not damage him, even if he tried. The bond would not allow it, and a small inkling of Albus' plan, for he was thoroughly certain it had been planned, started making sense. For their future, he needed to learn how to control it. He sighed, stirring the hairs on Severus' chest. One more thing to control--as if he didn't already have enough. But learn it he would if only to prevent Severus future grief.

"What am I, Severus?" he whispered in the dark. Unless one counted a snuffling snore, he never got a proper response. Which was probably just as well. Severus was right; they could discuss it tomorrow.

Today, actually. The room was lightening from the sun winking through the cracks in the draperies closed over the windows. The day was fast approaching and he'd not slept yet, not really. The restorative finally doing its job, his last thought before slipping into sleep was that while talking was essential, it _could_ wait.

For other things.

* * *

TBC


	31. Part III : The Birds and the Bees

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Thirty One : The Birds and the Bees**

_Edited for FanFiction:net: 1,237 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods. I apologise if this feels choppy in any way, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site._

**26 October 2003**

Severus supposed that if someone had told his younger self that he would someday greet almost every sunrise by lazily making love, he would have been of two minds about it. The larger, cynical part of him would have blasted the bearer of such impossible news with a snarled, "Sod off!", while admonishing his foolish body to stop being such an bloody optimist. The smaller, hopeful part of him would have eagerly asked, "Who? Where? When?" Nowadays, with both parts insufferably cheerful, there were few unanswered questions, although the hard part wasn't quite as instant.

However, whatever he might now lack in response, he more than amply made up with enthusiasm. And with Harry, getting there brought a pure pleasure all its own; he loved every nook and cranny on Harry's body. But he had to admit, of all the things he could do, there was nothing better than, as Harry called it, 'a little morning nibble'.

There was something almost ritualistic in their morning pastime--rather like drinking strong dark tea with breakfast; the day just didn't start out right without it. He'd wake, usually on his side spooned tight to Harry, and after a stretch, he'd roll out of the bed. Then he'd make the stealthy trip to the loo, impatiently waiting for his morning arousal to subside so he could take a leak. Once returned (usually freezing), he'd embark on the dark and dangerous trek under the covers.

If he were really lucky, his lover would awaken before he got much further than his chest and Harry's arms and legs would wrap around him to pull him down oh so close. Grinding his wild oats for a morning treat was always a pleasure and all the more special for its rarity. However, most of the time, his lover slept so deeply he could make his way unimpeded to the offering on the altar as it stirred in its recumbent slumber. It was so easy to settle himself to have a leisurely morning 'service'.

Worshipping Harry awake.

He would always wait for the first groan, a groan that would turn into soft mewling noises torn out of the back of Harry's throat heard only because the covers would have come sailing off as his avid lover strove to cool a body burning.

And Severus would pleasure Harry. When he could feel Harry getting close, he would really get to work, loving the feeling of Harry falling over the edge, his body stiff and still, his breath caught in straining lungs--all to topple over in an explosion of sensations felt by every part of _his_ body.

Eventually the hands of his lover would finally drop to his head, languidly massaging his scalp, only to fist and grab and pull, as they wordlessly demanded his presence at the head of the bed. Supremely smug, like a cat with cream on his whiskers, he would slide his way up his lover, noting the deep creases in the sheets made by clawing fists. Harry's hands would caress him. And once he was settled, those hands would come up to cup his face to bring their mouths together.

Here the routine varied. Harry might like receiving his loving the same way each morning, but he preferred the giving of it to be a surprise. Sometimes--most times if he thought on it, Harry would be ready for another go while Severus ached with his _need_ for release. And oh! could Harry make it worse before it got better. Which suited Severus just fine; he _never_ left the bed unsatisfied. Afterwards, they would enjoy a good cuddle, sometimes (if they had time) languidly discussing what they had to do that day, before rolling out of bed, groaning, to start their day with everyone else. Somehow, teaching the little brats didn't seem so horrible when seen from within Harry's arms.

But today it was all--_different_.

Oh, it began in much the same manner. Wake, stretch, and regretfully stumble stiffly out of a bed suddenly too warm. Into the field. He inhaled the sweet morning scent deeply, amazed he'd not noted it before now. His trip to the loo, even without need of a dressing gown, took longer than normal as body stubbornly refused to cooperate for him to do his business. Feeling a fool, he stood there talking to it as if it would ever respond to reason (and he didn't know why he'd thought _that_ particular capriciousness would be any different).

Finally need met sense and, with relief, he finished what he'd come for. He strode back into the bedchamber, his impatient thoughts centred on how long he could make Harry whimper when he stopped in the middle of the room. A bird. He'd definitely heard a bird. Somewhere in the room. He glanced all around him and when he could find no source for the annoying trilling (but saw some bees buzzing happily around the clover), he decided to ignore it. For the moment. He knew one house-elf he was going to have a serious discussion with later; flowers and spring breezes were one thing, but birds and bees were a little over the top. Knowing his luck so far, he'd get stung in the arse.

Then it got truly strange.

Standing by the side of the bed gazing at his sleep tousled lover, now husband, he felt unaccountably nervous, which he immediately thought was an incredibly stupid way to feel given he'd done this, he tipped his head back to do the math, well over a thousand times without a hitch. But there it was. His heart was pounding with the same trepidation he'd felt the first time he'd ever touched Harry. His mouth was dry and he tried to still the tremour in the hands desperately wanting to reach out and touch the silky skin peeking out from under the tossed covers. The same inane questions floated through his head. Would Harry like it? Would he think him sexy enough? Did _his_ mouth taste fine?

He gave himself a hard shake. What the hell was the matter with him? Was he sickening? A quick internal check revealed that not only was he healthy, but he felt _good_. Better than he had in years. His arms even felt the same; looking down at his left arm, he smiled at his long-standing fancy that the one arm had always weighed more than the other because of the burden it bore. That feeling was replaced by an ebullient sense of well-being, of wholeness.

_'Must be the bond,_ he thought. _'I felt something of this last night before I slept, but because of the curse, only a small part could be felt.'_ The curse! Gone! Strong feelings surged through him--elation, love, gratitude, arousal--

"While I admit the view from here is quite scintillating, I'm thinking it would _feel_ much better if you were to join me." The voice, low and sexy, almost a purr, rippled through his skin, making pleasant aches in all the right places. But his feet were frozen to the ground as the doubts flooded his mind.

Harry raised a brow and, getting to his knees, clamboured across the covers until he kneeling right at the edge. Reaching out to Severus with a murmured, "Feeling a bit shy myself," he slid his hands around Severus' waist as far as he could and, with a little flex of his fingers, pulled him flush with the bed. Arms tentatively wrapped around each other until flesh met flesh with a gasp. "Wow. I _felt_ that!" Harry exclaimed at the same time Severus moaned.

Harry ran his hands up his lover's back; Severus could feel with his fingertips the corresponding skin stipple with pleasure up Harry's back. He tilted his head and chased his lips down Harry's neck, feeling it ghost down his own until he hit _there_ where neck meets shoulder. At this most sensitive of spots, he felt himself jerk with a shot of fire speeding straight to his groin as if a hot wire extended directly between the two places.

Severus and Harry stared at each other in delight. "If that felt--"

"--I wonder what--" He never got to say it as Severus suited words to actions and took his mouth in a searing kiss. Sensation fed on sensation as lips meshed perfectly. Bodies held tightly together, they fell into the bed hardly aware of the impact as they explored. It was old, it was new, smooth and awkward as all the familiar places were revisited, each finding what the other truly liked to receive and do.

Severus' skin was like a finely tuned instrument, there was no place that didn't sing when Harry used hands and mouth on him. Harry soon found that his lover's hands were especially sensitive. The fingers splayed taut when he kissed and laved the palm. As he nibbled and sucked on Severus' fingers, the sensations shooting through his own hands spread an unbearable tension throughout his whole body, almost sending him over the edge.

He'd always known Severus responded best to touch. Each slide of Harry's fingertips along his mate's tender skin would cause it to contract, each kiss bestowed would elicit low, sexy groans. Now he knew from his own twitching skin that to Severus, his touch felt almost like orgasms flashing at each point of contact. Inspired, he soon reduced his husband to a writhing, whimpering wreck. It was quite intoxicating when he made Severus shudder and cry out, hands ripping the sheets.

Severus discovered that the place on Harry's neck was only one of many places that could make him writhe helplessly, one of them being the back of his knees. He'd always known Harry loved to be kissed, almost anywhere, especially on the mouth where he could and did reciprocate with pleasure, but he soon found that licking Harry's lips sent heat coursing through him, and kissing him a certain way made his husband almost mad inside.

But later, when he dipped down and took his normal morning pleasure, it strained every ounce of Severus' control; he'd no idea Harry was so sensitive and his wicked mind filled with the hundreds of sublime tortures he could devise to send Harry over the edge again and again. He'd felt his own passion build with Harry's, measure for measure, and soon found himself busy shouting out at the same time as Harry.

"Wow," was Harry's only response as he pulled on Severus' hair to bring him back up to him.

"It's good to know I can still render you speechless," Severus murmured, his voice low and husky. He jerked as he felt Harry's instant response.

"Just as long as _you_ don't stop talking, that's fine with me," Harry said, his face flushing with embarrassment.

Severus decided to take pity on him. Lying next him, with only their hands joined, Severus whispered, "Speak Parseltongue to me."

Raising his brow as he rolled onto his side so he could see better, he thought about it a second and then said, _::Ssseverusss Sssnape, you are the sssexiessst man on earth.::_ His eyes widened when he felt the ripples roll through his lover. With only his voice, a gift he usually attributed to his lover.

_::Come to me, Ssseverusss. I need to feel all of you,::_ he said, tugging on his mate as he rolled on his back.

"You wicked boy," Severus murmured, obliging Harry.

Harry found a freedom he'd never known talking to Severus like this; he could say whatever he wanted and not feel shame at it, not that he thought Severus would ever ridicule him for it, but Severus generally like love-making, if not silent, at least not full of chatter, whereas Harry could be quite vocal. But if he liked _this_...

_::No, Ssseverusss. All of you.::_ "I need to feel all of you," he said, pulling him flush to him. He arched his back enough to invite Severus to wrap his arms under him, which he did, finally settling most of his weight on him.

"I'm not too heavy?" Severus asked in concern.

"Have you ever been?" Harry asked, meeting his question with one of his own.

"No, I suppose not, but--"

"--it feels like the first time. I know. I feel it, too. Like I've never been with you before."

Severus dipped his head, sealing their mouths. Fire ran through them as each answered the other's kiss. Breaking away, Harry gasped, "Like each kiss is the first."

Closing his eyes, Severus whispered, "My husband--"

_::My mate,::_ Harry choked out.

"Together," _::Together,::_ they said at once, their bodies moving in time with the beating of their hearts.

Pleasure built on pleasure as their bond, finally released, strained to bring them _together_. Severus whispered words of endearment into Harry's sweat-soaked shoulder while the sibilant sounds of Parseltongue skated across his skin as strongly as Harry's hands grasping on his back, his waist, his sides, anywhere they could reach. Farther it took them, bringing into them the tempest of their bodies to forge the binding of their lives. Deeper it went in both body and spirit until near the end they _were_ one: one body, one passion, one heart, one soul, forever joined.

Severus almost stopped breathing when Harry arched into him, his eyes closed tightly as fingers clenched and inarticulate cries escaped perfect lips, his powerful climax ripping through them both. Severus consumed those cries, his mouth sealing Harry's as his own overwhelming release echoed in the shuddering beneath him, Harry's hands and arms and legs clasping him close. Consummated, the bond let them ride the aftershocks until they sagged against each other, boneless in the aftermath, still one, still joined tenderly inside each other.

"Gods, I love it this way," Harry softly murmured, enjoying the soft nips Severus was giving his neck while his heart returned to its normal pace. He breathed deeply and sighed.

Severus, still catching his breath, stopped nuzzling Harry's neck long enough to muzzily ask, "Hmmm? Why is that?"

"It's close," Harry murmured, trailing his fingertips randomly up Severus' back and sides. "I like the closeness, like your weight on me, makes me feel safe. And hot."

He raised his head to look at him. "Hot?" he asked, not quite sure if Harry meant before or after.

"You're very warm, Sev. It's nice. Much better than a blanket." Harry raised his head enough to steal a kiss, long and sweet and light. "Perfect," he said when his head finally fell back to the pillow. "Just perfect."

Curious, Severus closed his eyes and concentrated until he could 'sense' what Harry was feeling right now--an utter stillness inside, something he'd never experienced within himself. For that one full moment of emotional contact, Severus found what Harry received out of their relationship. Contentment, quiet, and an indefinable _rightness_ about things as if there was nothing or no one who could touch him except the one he wanted. To such a restless spirit, this first brush with absolute stillness was almost disquieting in its silence until it melded with the feel of Harry's heart beating beneath him, the deep breaths he took, the feel of Harry's hands warm on his back. And his desire--so strong. Not a sexual desire, although Severus sensed he could easily rekindle that if he so chose, but a desire of presence: at this moment, the _only_ one Harry wanted was himself, Severus Snape.

And he savoured that desire for as long as he could. Eventually, unable to continue the connection, he felt bereft of a precious gift as he drifted back to only his own perceptions. He opened his eyes to see green ones staring questioningly at him. They searched his face and, seeing something they liked, they smiled, the corners around them crinkling in what would become a life pattern as they aged. He levered himself up and off, pulling Harry with him until they lay comfortably on their sides in their normal entanglement.

Face to face, he leaned over to kiss him, hoping to recapture what he'd just lost and found it wasn't really gone when the touch of Harry's lips brought back vividly the memory of that moment.

Breaking the kiss, he asked with wonder, "Is that how I make you feel inside when I love you?"

Capturing his eyes, Harry could only nod and pulled him closer, his head finding its way to his hollow.

Severus sighed. "Could be addicting," he said running his hand up Harry's arm. "It's going to be difficult not to touch you tonight."

"Tonight? Oh--the reception, I'd almost forgot." He snuggled closer. "Are you certain we have to be there? I don't recall receiving an invitation."

Severus chuckled, his hand stroking Harry's waist. "That's because we didn't. Wouldn't that serve the old bugger right? Deprived of the guests of honour over a technicality."

"He'd do it to us in a heartbeat."

"True. However, I find myself wanting to attend if only to see what can be done to upset the plans he's so carefully placed in the last few weeks. The rumours have been rife and if nothing else, it would give us the pleasure of confounding him by doing exactly the opposite of what he expects."

"Huh?" Harry pulled away enough to see Severus while they talked. "What does he expect?"

"Harry," Severus began, kissing his nose, "you didn't think the lack of invitation was merely an oversight do you?" When Harry nodded, Severus smiled wickedly. "The man's a sneaky Slytherin; even your hop-scotched Gryffindor logic can see he 'missed an invitation' on purpose--he fully expects us to take the loophole he provided and not attend."

"Or else he expects us to think that was his intention and because we always do what he doesn't want us to do, we _would_ attend," Harry muttered, his brain reeling from the convoluted logic.

Severus pulled is head back, a small smile on his lips. "I'm impressed. I see you're finally starting to use your better Slytherin side." When Harry smacked his arm, they both grunted with the impact. Severus chuckled. "And thus the Gryffindor learns the value of repercussions. This could be amusing." He kissed Harry in mock apology. "However, whatever the reason or the logic, what say you we go anyway."

"I'm game if only to see all the horrid gifts. I'm told they started arriving two days ago and almost fill one of the old classrooms. Some of them _move_ and there's a couple, I'm told, the house-elves won't go near because they're really 'nasty'." When Severus snorted, Harry looked sheepish and glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Um, and speaking of gifts, I'm sorry I have nothing to give you anymore."

Severus kissed him tenderly. "I think it is safe to say I have already received it--perhaps even a bit more than you originally planned. I'm the one who should be apologising; it was a magnificent gift and very thoughtless of me not to thank you for it last night. I _know_ what goes into the _Ipsemet Potion's_ preparation. I intimately know its cost." He leaned over and they shared a serious kiss. "Thank you for your trust in me," he whispered.

"You're welcome," Harry replied, stroking Severus face. "Albus suggested it when I asked him what was the most precious thing I could give you."

"A piece of yourself? I would say so. Speaking of which..." Rolling over, he pulled open the drawer of the bedside table and without rummaging, pulled out a small package wrapped in bright paper with a small bow on the top. For Severus, it was in itself a declaration of love considering his packages usually looked like they'd been tossed into old paper bags and tied with fraying twine left over from his last book delivery. "Mine's not nearly so fine, but I suppose it will do in a pinch," he said with self-deprecation, when in reality his heart was pounding, hoping Harry would like it.

Harry sat up taking the package while Severus scooted over to face him, his upper thigh resting comfortably against his husband's hip. Once they were settled, the paper and ribbon flew, exposing a plain wooden box; Harry could feel the latent magic in it through his fingertips. He slowly lifted the lid to find it filled with excelsior. Raising a brow at both the contents and the nervousness he could feel emanating from Severus in waves, Harry carefully probed through the shavings with his finger until it met something cold and metallic. Adding his thumb, he gently picked up the object and, as the packing fell away from it, he could see it was a heavy gold disc with solid convex sides about the size of a Galleon with a loop on top to hang it from a chain. On one side was an impossibly detailed glyptograph of their seal, clearly Langley's work. Turning it over, he bent closer to read the engraving on the back: _Non iam solitarius sum_.

He cupped the medallion in his palms and glanced at Severus before closing his eyes. He sank into it and started at the strange yet known _Schema_ he could feel within. He cast about in his memory until he recognized it as an alchemist's _Schema_ very similar to the one imbued in the ball he used for healing, the one that transferred magical energy away from his patients. This one then, perhaps, designed to transfer it _to_ someone? It was already full, the energy it contained achingly familiar.

It was Severus'. His magic captured in an alchemist's matrix. For him?

"For me?" he whispered, barely daring to breathe.

"For you, love," Severus said, his hands folding over Harry's, still holding the pendant.

Harry leaned over and placed his forehead on Severus' shoulder. Severus' arms came up to hold him fast, one arm around his shoulders, the other buried in his unruly hair. He kissed his mate's cheek, the moisture leaking from the closed eyes, to finally press one soft, sweet kiss to his lips. "You are never alone now," he murmured, "you will always carry a part of me with you and should you ever need me when I can't be with you, all you have to do is hold the medallion and say '_Liberatum_', and all the energy and magic and love I've placed there will be yours. And when you return, empty, I shall fill it and you, again and again, as often as you need me to."

Harry was silent for a long moment. "Sometimes--I feel like all I have to offer you is so poor compared to what you have given me. Even with what I feel of you inside me, I'm still--stunned--that you could ever want me. Gods, Severus, I love you so much. I just wish--sometimes I just wish I had more to give you."

"Harry, listen to me." When he had Harry's full attention, he framed his face with his hands, saying gently, "You have rid me of a curse I had no hope of surviving," he held out his left arm, "lifted an evil part of my past I thought I would always bear. What gifts more do I need?" He gave him a lingering kiss. A few moments later, his own eyes misty, he quietly said, "_Non iam solitarius sum_, I am no longer alone; those were the words most precious to me in our vows; the ones with the most meaning, perhaps, to us both. We have given each other our lives, our hearts, our love." He kissed him tenderly, whispering, "And that, my love, is the greatest gift of all."

With the truth of every word Severus and Harry uttered, with every emotion both good and bad they confronted, the bond grew stronger between them for that was its nature, its foundation cast by the _intentions_ of those who made it, the safe haven it guarded built with all the shining things within them. Just as neglect could weaken it, the purity of the thoughts and actions of those who bore it reinforced it. As they held each other close, they could feel it invading the old places of dread within them, bringing light and warmth to places too long cold and dark. Not all at once, though; it would take a lifetime for it to help them overcome the past and bring it into perspective.

But for the moment, the closeness of body and mind and heart was enough. Leaning against each other, the tightly held arms loosened, their heads, settled onto shoulders, became heavy weights as sated and tired bodies lightly napped.

Harry was about to pull them both down for a proper rest, when a most delicious smell crossed his nose. Severus twitched against him, his head raising up to sniff the air. They looked at each other in surprise. Food. They'd forgot all about it, but with the scents of rich culinary delights overriding even the fragrance of the field still surrounding their bed, stomachs long empty began to gurgle and growl in earnest.

Chuckling, they pulled apart. Famished now, Harry winced as his belly cramped, a tightening around Severus' eyes telling him he'd felt it, too. "Seems there's more than one hunger we share," he said drolly, swinging his legs off the bed. He picked up the dressing gowns abandoned in the grass, handing Severus his when he came off the bed.

"As much as it pains me to do so, I may have to take back everything bad I ever said about house-elves," Severus muttered, pulling the robe on and tying it around his waist.

His own robe on, Harry walked over to his wardrobe and, from the top drawer, extricated a flat jeweler's box. Opening it, he pulled out the fine serpent chain Severus had given him with the glyph; he'd removed it for the first time last night before the wedding. With a whispered spell, the chain broke open, and he carefully threaded it through the loop of the medallion. He held the assembled necklace out to Severus who took it from him. Harry turned around and Severus looped the chain around his neck, whispering the counterspell to rejoin the links. He settled the chain against the soft skin of Harry's nape, placing a lingering kiss there for good measure. Harry shivered at the touch, instantly aroused, and turned to face him, his arms stealing around his lover's waist as he pressed them close.

Severus kissed him on the forehead, his growling stomach more insistent than his arousal. With a small smile, he left his arm around Harry's shoulder as he led his half dazed husband out of the bedchamber. "Breakfast, Harry. Remember? We may have shared some protein this morning, but I don't think it's enough to sustain us.

Harry scrunched up his face. "That's just--" he temporized as Severus raised a brow, "--so true."

And with a light laugh and lighter hearts, they went to the dining room. _Together_.

* * *

TBC


	32. Part III : Ruminant Ruminations

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Thirty Two : Ruminant Ruminations**

**26 October 2003**

Together Severus and Harry entered the dining nook, glancing around to see if Dobby was still there. The room was empty, but the table, enlarged for the occasion, was not. Two places had been set across from each other, laden with each of their favourite foods. Tea, dark and strong, with milk and sugar for Harry, was set to the side within easy reach of both.

Severus felt his mouth start to water; he usually spaced out his culinary indulgences a bit at a time, not only to savour them (since he knew just how bad they were for him) but also to keep Harry from badgering him about it like some damn Hufflepuff. While it was nice to know someone cared enough to watch out for his welfare, there was the nagging to endure in the first place, and with his infrequent lapses, Harry's raised brows with his little interspersed "Hmph's" could scold better than any words.

Harry did not disappoint. "Ah, and such a healthy breakfast it is, too," he chuffed, eyeing the mounds of food on the table as he sat down. Pouring them both a cup of tea, he laughed as he peered into the cup before handing it to Severus. "Looks perfect. I can't see the bottom."

Severus took it from him with a quiet thanks and drank some in small sips. Sighing in contentment, he put the cup back on its saucer and, with knife and fork in hand, was eagerly debating where to start on such wonderful decadence when he felt the _look_ coming from his lover.

Sighing with resignation, he raised his head, perplexed when Harry burst out laughing, peering mischievously over the cup held suspended in front of his face. "Oh, if you could _see_ your face right now, Sev." He set his cup down with a rattle. "Don't worry, I'll leave you alone--for now. Who am I to stand between a man and his drool?"

Severus was about to reply that he was _not_ drooling, thank you very much, when it occurred to him that if he just stayed quiet he could have his pudding and eat it too. Allowing himself a rebellious snort, he tucked into his meal before Harry could change his mind.

A thick slice of fried bacon in hand, Harry remarked, "You know, given how little we both have eaten, I'm surprised at our stamina the last few hours. I didn't even know I could get it up that many times."

"Hmmm," Severus said around a salty mouthful of black pudding, his absolute favourite. "I would think it has everything to do with the bond. I can't recall, even with your insatiability, _ever_ making it more than twice. But three times? In a row? And you? What? Four?"

"What can I say, you inspired me." Harry laughed at Severus' "Hmph." He lifted his fork to take a bite of waffle dripping with syrup, when he stopped and looked down towards the floor. Severus leaned over to see what had caught his attention. Cally, usually the most polite of cats, stood on her hind paws, stretched out with her claws sunk into Harry's robe for purchase. Her pink nose wiggled, making her huge whiskers dance as she fixed her round blue eyes adoringly on her master and begged. With a grin, Harry broke off a piece of his fish and slipped it to her. She daintily knocked it from his fingers and dropped back to the floor gobbling it down after smelling it for a short while. Licking her mouth and whiskers, she was back in her previous position, positively begging now, her long tail swishing in anticipation from side to side.

"Cally, you can have one more piece, but if I give you more there won't be any left for me." Harry suited actions to words and when Cally came back for more (clearly ignoring him), Severus snickered, muttering something about 'talking to deaf cats', when Harry had to hold her off.

Severus eyed the remainder of Harry's kippers. "Are you really going to eat those?" he asked his nose wrinkled with aversion. "Cally would be more than happy to finish them off for you."

His cheeky husband answered him by swiping a bite of the smoked salmon in the Hollandaise sauce, slowly putting it into his mouth with a low groan, his face lighting with gastronomic satisfaction.

With a moue of distaste, Severus responded, "Ugh. You don't intend to kiss me with that mouth do you?"

Harry pointed his fork at Severus' black pudding. "As if you can talk." He watched Severus cut another bite off his sausage, chewing with eyes closed as if in the throes of ecstasy. Harry shuddered at the sight, while remarking, "I'm surprised Horatio's not after your black pudding."

Severus swallowed before answering, "It's cooked. He'll only eat it raw."

He chuckled at Harry's scrunched up face and, "Ech! I do _not_ want to know how you found _that_ out."

"Oh, it was fairly innocuous--for someone who can eat fish for breakfast, it shouldn't ruin your appetite _too_ much." He laughed and continued despite Harry's look of scepticism. "A few years back, one of the rat shipments was running late and Horatio had eaten everything in sight. I had gone to Albus to find out if there was a secluded part of the castle I could let Horatio out to hunt for a few days when he suggested I see if he liked raw meat instead. Took a bit of trial and error, and a few fainting house-elves, but it seemed he liked the black sausage the best, but only in small quantities--and without the casing and spices. Bit messy, though."

"Well, however _he_ likes it, I don't, and I'll remind you there's a reason the bathroom is on the way to the bedroom."

"Oh, speaking of bathrooms, I meant to ask you earlier. Where on earth did you find a basilisk?" Severus asked, mopping up the gooey yolk of his eggs with a piece of toast.

His own fork full of egg dripping with sauce hovering near his mouth, Harry asked incredulously, "Severus, what does a bathroom have to do with magical monsters?"

Severus stared at the tip of Harry's tongue licking his lips to get the bits of sauce off the edges. Shaking himself, he replied, "Bathroom--Chamber of Secrets--Basilisk--foolish Gryffindors?"

Harry blinked and then shook his head. "Oh. Right. And you say _my_ logic is confusing," he muttered wiping his mouth on his napkin. "Careful, Severus, your Gryffindor side is showing." He chuckled when Severus pulled his head back, almost spewing his mouthful of hot tea. "Romania," Harry said with a grin. "Near the dragon keepers. Charlie Weasley was there. Do you remember the baby we found last winter?"

"How can I forget? Poor Horatio."

"Yeah, well, Dumbledore sent the thing to the dragon keepers. He seems quite happy there; he's one of three they have. Oh, and I forgot to mention--they have a few Runespoor there as well. Charlie said they would be willing to trade you some of your more expensive or difficult potions for some of the more obscure ingredients you're always looking for," Harry said, chuckling at the spark of interest and the sudden avid gleam in his husband's eye. "Oh, and speaking of Horatio, he played quite a part in all the excitement yesterday."

Cutting another bite of his grilled sausage, Severus looked up, raising a brow. "What excitement?"

Harry thought about it a moment. "It's a bit--complicated--" he started and in between bites of food, he recounted what he knew of the day's happenings right up to the start of the wedding. Severus questioned him on a few points (although he remained tight-lipped and silent when Harry shared his own adventure at Malfoy Manor). He chuckled briefly at the telling of Horatio's 'tail', accepting when Harry said one had to be there to truly appreciate its brevity (although Harry silently noticed the dismayed eyes flicking over him surreptitiously as if making certain he was really all right when he mentioned Maldy's initial mission). He sat forward, stunned, his eyes glazed and staring, when Harry told him of Maldy and Dobby, and muttered something about "that interfering old bastard" when Harry recounted his and Dumbledore's arguments. He paid keen attention when Harry described the happenings in the infirmary and _how_ he saw it, making some speculative noises when Harry told him what he'd seen inside them both.

When Harry finished, both of them replete with the meal and the tale, Severus sat back in his chair, his long legs stretched out, cup of tea in hand, thoughtfully sipping. "I don't remember much after getting caught. Damn stupid thing to do, too." Harry looked to the side. Severus knew _that_ look well. His lover had a question he wasn't sure would be well received, but Severus could _feel_ his urgency. "Well, what is it?" he finally asked into the straining silence.

Harry hesitated, then blurted out, "Why did you go after Pettigrew in the first place?"

Putting the cup back on the table, Severus lined up the remaining flatware in neat order. He held up a spoon as if examining his face in it, saying, "Hmmm. Not an easy question to answer. Several reasons actually--" he put the spoon down and finally met Harry's gaze "--the least of which are that I felt honour-bound to clear Sirius' name, as I promised, and Albus pushed the point of my debt with him." When Harry made a noise of protest, he held up his hand and continued. "I said 'the least of which' and meant it. Remus was more interested in clearing your godfather's name and thereby releasing Sirius' inheritance for you. I primarily went because the thought of Lucius getting his hands on Voldemort's secrets (which that sycophant still holds in that microscopic brain of his) scares several years off my life. While I wasn't happy at all about it and frankly thought it a trap, I also went to keep Remus from doing something foolish like serving the rat up _au jus_." He sat back in his chair, picked up the tea and took another sip. Reflectively he said, "It's obvious I failed miserably in all respects."

Harry muttered something about having a heart to heart with his former guardian the next time they met, which made Severus chuckle. "Don't do that again without talking to me first, all right?" Harry said with some asperity. "Sirius may have been family, but he is certainly not worth the risk. He is, after all, dead. And Dumbledore be damned. Neither one of us owes him a thing. Just--" Harry faltered. Looking down at his lap, he said quietly, "Just don't do it again, please. I almost lost you yesterday and--" he got up from the table to stand gazing unseeing out the closed window. "I was frantic--"

Severus set his napkin on the table and, rising, went over to the window to sit in the deep cushioned seat. Cocking one knee up near the glass to make room for Harry, the other dangling over the side, he got comfortable and called out softly, "Come here, love."

With no hesitation, Harry climbed up next to him, nestling in the crook of his arm. Severus threw his free leg over his husband's lap, effectively pinning him between his legs, drawing him down until he leaned into him, head on his shoulder. His free hand moved Harry's hair to the side and, lips lingering, he kissed the old faded scar. His fingers gentling Harry's face, he murmured, "As I said last night, you won't be so easily rid of me. I promise, I'll tell you personally before I go anywhere like that again. I _did_ leave a note, as we'd agreed, but it appears it had a little adventure before you got to see it. I suspect things would have been much simpler had you got it first." He could feel Harry smile against his chest. "Be that as it may, I wish I could remember the rest of it." He put his head back against the stone. "I can't help thinking I'm missing something important and, frankly, the memory loss surprises me. I _know_ I've experienced worse, but obviously can't say _why_ I know that."  
  
Sitting up a bit, Harry said, "You had a nightmare last night."

Severus stared at him. "Really?"

Harry wouldn't meet his eyes. "Yes, um, before--before I went to the library. It was about yesterday, though."

Severus could feel there was more to it than that, but decided not to pursue more than the obvious. For now. "I think you must be mistaken."

"No, I saw Avery cutting the eyes."

Severus blinked. "Harry, I assure you, I looked; I have no memories of it, not even blocked ones--there are _Legilimency_ techniques one can use to retrieve suppressed memories."

"I _saw_ it, Severus--" he said heatedly and stopped as he remembered what else he'd done last night--to Avery. "Maybe I was seeing _his_ memories," he muttered.

Severus cocked his head, confused. "Whose memories?"

"Um, Avery's--do we need to talk about this right now?"

Severus held him in silence. Harry felt the tension drain out of him when, after several minutes, Severus finally replied, "I suppose I can wait. Perhaps you just need time to come to grips with all of this."

Harry immediately felt guilty; damn it, he'd agreed not to do this any more. Where the hell was that Gryffindor courage when he needed it? "No. No, we should talk."

"Are you certain? I can _feel_ your unease with whatever it is you're afraid to tell me."

Taking a deep breath, Harry said, "I'm sure." He leaned up against Severus, playing with the tie on his robe. "Um, you remember I said you had a nightmare?"

Severus put his hand over Harry's, twining their fingers. "Yes."

"Well, it was a bit more than that. See, I woke up while you were in the middle of it because I--we were dream sharing. It was awful and for the first time since we've been together, I couldn't wake you or get you back into proper sleep, so I put my hand on the ward Mark on your chest thinking I could reach you that way and--fell in--I guess that's the best way to put it. And I thought at first I was back in your dream, but it was so _real_--" He stopped, shivering with the memory.

Severus laid his cheek on top of Harry's head and waited. Harry could feel the soothing pulse in their joined fingers. "I saw Avery and Lucius," he whispered. "They were talking about reactivating the curse; Avery planned on killing you--" Harry took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "Avery spoke those horrid words, and you went so still, and I was afraid and angry, oh so angry--and I broke the connection he'd made to you." Severus' hand came off his shoulder to curl around and capture his head, the fingers running through his hair, while his lips rested on his forehead. "I almost killed him, Severus," he whispered, "I had his heart in my hands with the _Sanos_--he was dying."

Severus went still. Carefully, he asked, "What stopped you?"

"Myself, I guess. There was just something--wrong--about using the _Sanos_ that way--to kill."

Severus nodded, his hand tightening on Harry's hand in his lap. "But there's more?"

Harry shivered again; this was the part he really didn't want to talk about. "I may have stopped myself from killing him, but then I did something equally wrong."

They sat quietly a few minutes, until Severus broke the silence by saying, "_Semper te amabo_."

The words invoked the bond and Harry could feel it like another pair of arms caressing him, filling him with strength and security. Suddenly he knew he could do it; he could tell Severus, and he would still love him. But still, he felt shame as he explained, "I tortured him. I used the _Sanos_ to cause him pain. For a long, long time." There. He'd said it. Only a bit more to go. "Lucius laughed and thanked me for the _entertainment_. And then he told me I'd done it for nothing--that I should have killed Avery while I'd had the chance--that you would still die. And I wanted to take it back; I wanted to kill him anyway." Harry's voice broke and he buried his face in Severus' chest.

His arms, his body, the legs now curled over and around him were so warm, so calm, so strong, and Harry leaned into them, letting them draw him closer. Taking the kiss Severus bestowed on his forehead further, he lifted his face for the reassurance he needed so badly. And as always, Severus obliged, his lips as gentle, as tender as the loved _feeling_ of him inside, while his body wrapping around him gave him the warmth and security he craved on the outside.

But there was one thing he still needed to know, something only his husband would tell him with complete honesty. "What does that make me, Severus?" he asked in a small voice.

Without hesitation, Severus replied, "Human, Harry. It makes us both human, for I confess that while one part of me is torn between dismay that you did this and pride that you stopped in time, there is another part of me that is wildly cheering because the bastard richly deserved it." He chuckled grimly. "Given Avery's and my past history, I'm not so certain that, had I your abilities, I would have been quite so charitable."

Harry sat up and stared at him. "Really?"

"I'm not nearly as noble as everyone seems to think I am. In fact, I'm not virtuous at all." Harry chuckled quietly at the way he'd said it with such irony. "What disturbs me more is that I remember none of this and yet you say you saw it."

Harry could feel how upset he was by the loss and to comfort him, ran his hand lightly under the sleeve of Severus' dressing gown, to stroke along the arm holding him. Then a flicker of memory tugged at him. "You said last night that knowing about it could have affected our binding. Do you think--?"

Severus thought about it and then shook his head in disgust, his arms and legs tightening reflexively. "Of course. How stupid of me. I'm supposed to see Albus today to get something from him. He reminded me before we left to come back here last night, but he wouldn't tell me what it was. He probably _Obliviated_ me and is holding my memories."

Harry blinked. "I thought an _Obliviate_ was permanent."

"Not to a _Legilimens_ it isn't. There are methods--it's probably why I can't sense a block--there is none. And why you could see it in my dream, because they're not really gone, just 'lifted', if you will, from my conscious memory. Obviously my subconscious wasn't too happy with the whole thing; that's the one place I can't access through _Legilimency_."

"So I was right," Harry mused quietly, absentmindedly stroking Severus' arm and leg.

Severus looked at him sharply. "Right about what?"

His hands stilling, Harry said slowly, "Last night--before I went to sleep--I was thinking that when I changed the _Schema_ of the ward and the curse and your Dark Mark, I was working below your conscious mind."

"Why would you think that?"

Harry laughed. "Severus, the only stealth invasion you tolerate is under the bed sheets. Otherwise you get more than a tad testy if anyone, including me, trespasses on your privacy. If you'll recall, I landed on my arse more often than not the few times I was able to break through your defences during our _Occlumency_ lessons; I suspect this has not improved with time."

Severus chuckled, but his eyes were keen as he asked, "So, in order for you to do these changes without a fight, you think I had to accept you on a subconscious level?

"As near as I can reckon, yes." Harry waited to see if Severus resented him for the intrusion.

Severus was quiet for several minutes, deep in thought. "If I understand your healing," he began to Harry's surprise, "you have to invest a large part of yourself, like a catalyst, in order to effect a change to link two people, yes?" When Harry nodded, intrigued, Severus continued. "And as long as you remain a catalyst and do not become absorbed in the changes you make, your investment of self is safe, right?" Again Harry nodded. "But if you become too _personally_ involved, if you lose your sense of self and meld with the link you are making, then you become--different--and can no longer hold the change and thus, only half-finished and undefined, you--and the others--die."

Harry considered it for several moments. "Close enough, I think. I don't really know as I've managed thus far to avoid that complication. I just know the consequences, not necessarily the reasons behind it. Yet."

Severus nodded, still deep in thought. Almost as if to himself, he continued, "I am thinking our bond requires much the same investment of self as your healing, only the change within is effected by the Omega, who like you when you heal, remains neutral throughout the process. _Mihi insum. Tibi insum_. We are a part of each other, separate, yet _more_ when we're together. I felt it in our vows, a synergistic change within us both, rather like the invisible change in a potion when it turns from mere ingredients into magic. Don't you see, we are not what we were before. There is no way we could be."

Harry felt a surge of hope. "Then you don't mind what I did, what I can do?"

"Mind what? That you unconsciously bound all of our connections into one, much the same way that Albus bound us? That you can see through me now into my deepest places? Or that you can change me?"

When Harry shrugged in that deprecating manner he sometimes had, Severus knew he didn't quite understand yet what he was trying to say, which was fine; he was still trying to figure it out himself. But he also _knew_ Harry was less concerned with the mechanics of it right now than he was seeking reassurances that Severus didn't think less of him for what Harry viewed as an uninvited intrusion into a privacy Severus had always jealously guarded. And he was at a bit of a loss as to how he could explain to Harry that, with the bond, the previous privacy was no longer an issue to him.

Choosing his words with care, he quietly said, "No, my love, how could I think less of you for it? I _chose_ to bind with you, _chose_ to invest myself, _chose_ to accept you within me. That alone has profoundly changed me, us, in ways not yet explored." He ran his fingers through Harry's hair and pulled him close within the circle of his arms. Harry nestled in, relaxing as Severus whispered, "I have never _belonged_ before now and I find it comforting rather than annoying or frightening. _Non iam solitarius sum_. It all goes back to our vows; I suspect there are layers of meaning to them we have not yet discovered."

Harry nodded and pulled his face down for a serious kiss, one Severus ended fairly soon to his surprise. With raised brows, he silently bade Harry to continue. Eventually, in the quiet he found in Severus' arms, Harry found the nerve to voice his deepest fear. "What if I hurt you?"

With more patience than anyone would have ever credited him, even those who claimed to 'know' him, Severus said gently, "You _cannot_ hurt me."

He could feel Harry sigh against his chest. "Severus, I'm having a hard time believing that in light of what I've done. I _can_ change you. I _did_ change you. Doesn't that bother you at all?"

Shifting a bit to settle Harry closer, Severus replied, "I suppose it would if you could do it without my permission; however, you had my approval every step of the way."

Harry's confusion was almost palpable as he asked, "Huh? How is that possible? You weren't even conscious half the time."

"Hmmm. You're one with the difficult questions this morning, aren't you?" He nuzzled his forehead before continuing. "When you changed the curse, I was well aware when you did it, and you had my overt permission to try. As to the Dark Mark, you've known for years it was a thing I hated and would have removed, had I been able to do so. You knew I had tried and failed. And you knew my deep disappointment later when it didn't fully disappear with Voldemort's demise. When you went after it last night, I _chose_ to let you try."

"How? I thought you were asleep."

"I was, but I do dream, you know. I saw your nightmare and I saw your intent."

"You saw it?" Harry was confused. "Is that why you woke?"

"Partially. Initially it was because of the reflex, if you will, that we have both developed in response to the dreams of the other. However, having said that, we are fully bound now on all levels, both conscious and subconscious. In a way, we have been for a long time; it's how we dream share. Conscious or no, Harry, the bond will not let you do something to me that I do not allow."

"How do you know this?"

"I don't, not concretely. However, remember the pain in your scar? What you were trying to do at the time felt 'wrong'. It's hard to explain, but it hurt, differently than when you changed the curse. There was a feeling that had you continued, it would prove harmful, and while I couldn't speak at the time and didn't quite know how to reach you, I did resist knowing somehow, with absolute trust and certainty, that you _would_ feel it and stop immediately."

Harry was silent for quite some time and Severus could see from the random images and stray feelings filling his mind that Harry was confronting, and accepting, this notion that all of the previous barriers between them were now gone. Severus knew, from his own brief but decisive ruminations on the subject, exactly the incredulity his mate was feeling, although his own speedy surrender to it had shocked him a bit. He tried in his own fashion to let his bondmate know that his trust in him and their new relationship was boundless.

By slow degrees he could feel Harry relax against him as he began to understand what Severus had been trying to tell him. For two lonely souls, who so long had battled their separate demons apart, the concept of such total communion was hard to grasp. They were now _one_, they were now _together_, and now, they always would be.

Harry was almost dead weight on him, his breathing even and calm, his mind so quiescent that Severus thought him asleep, until he heard him murmur, "I was trying to destroy it."

It took him a few seconds to realise that Harry was referring to his attempt to change the scars on his chest. Funny, he hadn't even thought to look at what his lover had wrought. He smiled thinking he'd had _other_ things on his mind at the time. Mentally shrugging, he knew there was time enough later to look at them as he lightly replied, "Ah, that explains the difficulty and illustrates my previous comments over the years that you did not pay attention while in school."

With ironic tartness, Harry rejoined, "Oh? How so? I don't recall anyone _ever_ telling me that trying to destroy a _Schema_ would result in my scar hurting."

Severus chuckled. "No, but one of the first lessons taught to first years is that magic can neither be created nor destroyed--it can only be harnessed."

Intrigued, Harry abruptly sat up and asked, "Does this mean that the amount of magic available for use is limited? Has anyone ever measured how much there is?"

Severus sighed patiently. "If one assumes that magic follows the same rules as everything else in the physical world, then yes, it would be finite." Warming to the subject, he continued, "And I don't believe anyone has ever created a unit of measure nor devised a means of quantifying it, just as no one has been able to do more than estimate the number of air molecules surrounding the earth. It's known there is a number, ever fluctuating, but not what it is."

Harry was silent for some moments, thinking hard. Finally he said, "Severus, I honestly don't remember that from any of my classes--ever--and it's important enough I think I would have."

"I can't answer for your other teachers. They may have assumed others had taught it, and I admit, some of this goes far beyond a lower form curriculum, but the first part was in _my_ first day's lessons and has been ever since I started teaching."

Drolly, Harry asked, "Was that before the 'fame and glory' speech or after you stopped me from taking notes with your--?"

Severus winced at the memory Harry sent him. "All right, I get the picture. Perhaps I was slightly mistaken at the time." With the dig Harry gave him in his ribs, he amended, "Ow! _Very_ mistaken." He kissed Harry briefly, murmuring, "Impudent brat."

"That's '_sexy_ impudent brat', I'll have you know," Harry said, grinning.

"Well, not _then_ it wasn't," Severus retorted.

"Ewww!" Harry exclaimed, making a face. "I certainly hope not. I was far too skinny then."

Severus shot back without thinking, "And you're not now?"

Harry looked down in his lap, suddenly unsure. "Do you really think so?"

Severus sighed. He lifted Harry's face until he could see his eyes. "I think you're perfect; I _was_ just teasing."

Harry's face lit up. "Really?"

"Really. I'm sorry, I was just trying to make you laugh; you always seems to like it, although, personally, I don't much see the appeal."

"Liar," Harry said.

Severus shook his head in mock dismay, his hands still framing his face. "Caught me." Running his thumbs over Harry's lips, he asked, "Whatever am I going to do with you?"

Waggling his brows, Harry replied, "You could just take me to bed."

Belying his previous statement to the contrary, Severus laughed. "Insatiable whelp! I'm afraid right now the only appeal the bed has for me is sleep."

"Who says we have to be _in_ bed _to_ bed? This window seat, for example, has proven itself wide enough before--or we could use the table--although, the sofa has its merits, or the--" He stopped and stared at the huge yawn Severus belatedly covered with his hand. As if their faces were linked as much as their minds, Harry yawned himself, saying, "Stop it. That's addicting, you know. Now you'll--" yawn "--have me doing it, too." Eyes watering, he sagged against Severus. "Damn, now I'm sleepy. Must be all the exercise we got earlier."

Severus laughed lightly. "Or else the bond is letting us know we _need_ something other than what we _want_. Perhaps a nap would be in order." He craned his neck around the stone wall at his back to see the clock over the mantel. "We've a few hours before we need to go see the old bugger and still give ourselves plenty of time to get ready for the reception."

He unwrapped his leg bent over and around Harry, waiting for him to slide off the window seat so he could follow. Taking Harry's timely advice about the bathroom being on the way to the bedroom, Severus took a shower first (and by long-standing agreement the shower was the place of bathing, the bath the place for playing) while Harry cleaned his mouth (smiling broadly at his husband's dismal off-key humming) and took care of other necessary business. When done, they switched places, Severus shaking his head when he put the seal back on the oral cleaning potion Harry favoured after first drying himself off and using the loo.

Wading his way through the field in their bedroom (which seemed to be growing taller), Severus plucked off the top of a freesia stem before unselfconsciously dropping his dressing gown on the ground and climbing into the huge four-poster. It wasn't until he'd settled in that he realised someone, Dobby more than likely, had changed the sheets and freshened the bed. His clean body stretching luxuriantly against the fresh soft sheets mingling with the lingering sweet warm scents of clover and freesia and Harry all around him stirred his desire again, making him impatient for his husband's return.

Harry joined him shortly, his damp hair starting to fly wildly around his head, and before he knew it, he was on his back, his determined mate looming over him, stealing his breath with lips barely running over his, tongue skimming the sensitive surface of his bottom lip. "I've had some second thoughts about that nap," he breathed, resuming their kiss. Still teasing his mouth, Severus traced the blossoms of freesia down Harry's throat. Inhaling deeply, his lips followed the trail left by the flowers, Harry throwing his head back to give him more access to work his magic.

He whispered, low and husky, "They say the olfactory senses," he sucked on a soft patch of skin under Harry's ear, "are connected directly to the brain," his lips chased down the pulsing cord in Harry's throat, "as are the auditory senses," his tongue laved the vibrations from the noises Harry made with each labored exhalation, "but the sense of touch," he suckled his way down the column of Harry's neck, "takes a bit longer, while taste," he fastened his lips over the spot he now knew drove Harry crazy and sucked hard, "can be--"

"_Ssshut up, Ssseverusss,_" Harry murmured, his body squirming as Severus kept nipping _that_ place. Pulling Severus on top of him, he sealed his mate's mouth with his own, dancing their tongues together. When he finally heard the groan of need he'd been waiting for he pulled away, murmuring, "Mmmm. Whoever said intellect wasn't sexy obviously wasn't married to you."

Severus wriggled his hips into Harry's, gasping at the sensations flooding him. "Hmmm. And _this_," he pressed his husband deep into the bed, "is _your_ 'intellect' speaking?"

Barely coherent, Harry managed an, "Uh huh."

Catching his breath, he whispered, "Keep talking, Harry. I'm all ears."

* * *

TBC


	33. Part III : Where the Past Meets the Futu...

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth   
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever   
**Chapter Thirty Three : Where the Past Meets the Future**

**26 October 2003**

Severus decided that waking from a much-needed and well-deserved nap was never a bad thing, especially when he could feel Harry's breath stirring the hairs on his chest as the lean body effectively pinned him to the bed. In fact, he thought languidly as his mind slowly pulled out of its sleepy haze, it was quite pleasant. Eyes closed, he noted he was sore in more spots than he cared to count; how much so he would not be able to ascertain until he moved, which he was loath to do at the moment.

He opened his eyes, turning his head to look out the window; the sun was high and well on its way to mid-afternoon. He yawned, resisting the urge to scratch an itch on his side where Harry's hair tickled his skin. Stroking the arm slung possessively over his waist, he could feel the bond, almost as sleepy as they were, ebbing and flowing gently between them. Taking it all in, he was somewhat surprised at how refreshed he felt despite the nap's brevity.

When he felt Harry yawn and stretch, he savoured the warm, firm feel of his bondmate snuggled and all tangled along the length of his body, and while the movements against him were extremely sensual, he was a bit grateful they were not arousing. Gingerly, he flexed his own muscles, ignoring as best he could the achy twinges as various bits protested not only his fresh movement, but their previous overuse.

Obviously Harry felt the same way as, with small grunts and groans, he turned enough to lay on his stomach, half draped over him as Severus fidgeted in sympathy, the bond letting him know precisely what parts of Harry hurt. Raising up, Harry stretched the little bit necessary to kiss his husband on the cheek with a sleepy, "Hullo, love." When Severus merely tightened his hold around the slender waist, Harry sighed with contentment, mumbling, "Can't say I want to do more than have a long lazy lie-in. Can't say I _can_ do more in any event."

Severus snorted and shifted with a small grimace, saying, "I'm absurdly pleased to wake and _not_ feel an overweening compulsion to exchange bodily fluids, which, given the current state of _my_ body, is probably for the best. An afternoon spent cat-napping with you has a certain appeal, but unfortunately we've not even the time for a quick wank and a shower before we need to see Albus." When Harry muttered something about 'making time', Severus chuckled. "Are you sure _that_ vision is the last thing you want in your memory before we go to see the old voyeur?"

Harry laughed and, with some difficulty, hauled himself up onto his hands and knees. Kissing Severus one last time before rolling out of the bed seemed the most natural thing to do, although the brief encounter brought only affection, the bond tightening between them in a congenial manner. "Are you saying he would peek?" Harry asked, openly ogling Severus' bum as he climbed out of the bed.

Well aware of the eyes following him, Severus said blandly, "Why not? I would."

Harry chortled while rummaging in his wardrobe. He pulled out a pair of boxers and a pair of well worn jeans and tugged them on, only to pull the jeans right back off with a grunt. Standing only in his boxers, he could feel Severus standing close behind him. Ignoring the gooseflesh running down his back from Severus' breath, he reached in and pulled out a loose old robe and threw it on, his voice muffled as he said, "Pervert."

"Only with you," Severus remarked, moving away to pull on a pair of his work trousers. "Although with Albus now, I think he sometimes 'looks' just because he can." He winced as he began to button them up.

"Problem?" Harry smirked, knowing exactly how Severus felt, not only through the bond, but through his own abandoned attempt moments before. "A little tender there, perhaps?" he asked, grinning.

"Prat, you know full well this is uncomfortable."

Harry laughed. Rummaging around in Severus' wardrobe, he pulled out the long, soft, worn robes (sans trousers) his lover wore whenever making his potions on the weekends or holidays. "Well then, wear your old slumming robes; they'll be easier on the sore spots."

"But not suitable," Severus retorted with a grimace as he tried to adjust his trousers to fit 'better'. When his husband shook his head, he explained with asperity, "Harry, there are students out there. As a certified marshmallow your reputation is far easier to maintain, while I, on the other hand--"

"--Must look dour and properly intimidating, I know."

Severus raised a brow, his glowering stare falling a bit short of his goal due to the twitching of his lips as he fought a smile. Harry couldn't help it and made one for both of them.

"How about a compromise then?" Seeing he had his lover's attention, he separated the inner robe of the soft set and held it next to the more severely cut outer robe his husband usually wore when teaching. "There now. With this you'll be able to stalk down the hallways with your usual sexy sweep while keeping your bawdy bits nice and comfy and all ready for little Harry to play with later."

Severus' mouth opened like a gaping fish and he closed it with a snap and a sniff. Brow raised, he stripped the trousers off with a sigh of relief. In one fluid movement, he snatched the robe out of Harry's hand and whisked it over his head, letting it fall in heavy, graceful folds around his feet. The long tunic, almost like a buttonless cassock, was loosely fitted at sleeves, shoulders, chest, and waist. His normal outer robes, with their wide sleeves and a button at each cuff, so he could tighten them to keep them out of his brews, fit smoothly over the top, their coal black contrasting nicely with the 'been-washed-a-thousand-times' black of the under robe.

Harry chuckled as Severus muttered, turning to look one way and then the other in the mirror, "Not bad. Quite comfortable in fact, if a bit drafty. I wonder if one can get winter skivvies in black?"

Harry walked his hands around Severus' waist and snuggled in, letting out a sigh of satisfaction when Severus surrounded him in the outer robes with only his head showing; his lover was always so formal in them that this kind of contact in his teaching robes was rare. Given the obvious advantages of the softer under robe, he was curious and asked, "Tell me, Sev, why do you wear the trouse and waistcoat and such all the time when _this_ is ever so much more comfortable?" Severus mumbled something. "I'm sorry, love, I didn't quite catch that."

With a deep sigh, his words rushed, Severus replied, "Always-hated-being-called-a-robe-lifter."

Or the not so obvious advantages, Harry thought as he chuckled. "Well, you're _my_ robe-lifter now, so that's all right then."

He wasn't quick enough this time to evade the tickling hands and twisted, trying to get away, helplessly laughing as Severus dug into his ribs. However, his husband soon discovered yet another use as Harry got caught in the voluminous outer robes. Before he knew it, he was rolled like a rug in black cloth, facing away, Severus' arm supporting his waist, while his other hand had its way with his torso. Howling till he cried, Harry called for mercy, and while the hand let up, the arm dragged him back until he was firmly pressed up against another reason the robes were so beneficial. His breath ragged against Harry's ear, Severus whispered, "Who says one need _lift_ them to get what one wants?"

Turning to face him, the folds fell away, leaving Harry free to press back. He plucked at the side, holding it out a bit as he measured it with his eyes. "Hmmm. There's enough room in the skirt that I could just crawl underneath and no one would be the wiser--" he waggled his brows and grinned at the glazed look in Severus' eyes, "--that is assuming you could stay still long enough."

Severus responded the only way a wise man should; he sealed the impudent mouth with his own and pulled Harry close, grinding their hips together while tongues played back and forth between them. Breaking for air, he inadvertently looked out the window behind Harry and groaned. Reluctantly, he pulled away, twisting his hips to settle himself. "Or there's enough room that no one need know just how much I wish we could stay here and explore just how full the hem really is."

Dazed, Harry blinked. "Oh yeah. Right. Dumbledore. Shit. I'd forgot there for a moment why we needed the silly clothes in the first place." He chuckled ruefully, pulling away and adjusting his own informal robes. "Well, shall we go then? If we hurry, we may still have some time afterwards to fully explore the potential of your improvised attire."

Severus nodded without comment, although his stare spoke volumes about who was going under whose robes. Harry shivered in anticipation. With resignation, they both resolutely made their way to see the headmaster.

Halfway up the stairs from the dungeons, Harry stopped Severus with a hand on his arm. "Are you all right?"

Severus, a tread ahead, turned around to face him. "Of _course_ I'm all right."

Harry glared at him. "Hmph. All right--I'll go easy on you since this your first offense, but the 'I'd-rather-eat-rotten-Runespoor-eggs-than-admit-to-anyone-that-I-might-be-a-tad-bit-afraid-bravado-martyr-bullshit' stopped the moment we changed names--_Non iam solitarius sum._--remember?--it goes both ways, Severus, so spill, or do I have go in and look for myself, and trust me, it won't be pretty."

Severus stared, his mouth twitching as he said, "I'm impressed. You actually managed that whole speech all in one breath. Truly amazing and I am sorry, I was too distracted by the feat. What did you say?" When Harry's jaw dropped, Severus chortled, whispering, "Got you."

He came down the step until they were even with each other. "I'm sorry--it's so rare I can render you speechless, I feel I must indulge myself whenever the opportunity presents itself." He folded his arms around him while Harry's hands slid under his robe. Pulling each other close, Harry snuggled in to give Severus the reassurance he knew he needed, but also for himself; his husband was not the only nervous party here. They held each other close and it was as natural as breathing for one head to lift while the other one dipped, the two mouths gently joining in--

"Ten points from Slytherin for unbecoming behaviour in the hallways," floated down to them from the top of the stairs in McGonagall's plummy tones.

Which was followed closely by a, "Ten points to Slytherin because the Gryffindor Head of House is grumpy this afternoon," in Sprout's amused voice.

"What--?" sputtered McGonagall.

Although they did not jump apart in guilt at the interruption, they did, albeit reluctantly, separate. Severus climbed the stairs saying, "Ladies, ladies. You're both right. Pomona, I should have been more circumspect in my public behaviour and Minerva--I'm sorry, but you _are_ a grump. However, I shall endeavor to ensure it does not ha--

"Don't even think it, Severus Snape-Potter," Harry stated, stomping up the stairs. He leaned in, cupping his hand around his lover's ear and whispered, "Late night wanderings--dark niches--shadowy alcoves--you warming me up against winter cold walls? Are you _quite_ sure you want to make that promise, hmmm?"

"Come, Minerva," Sprout said as she eyed the faint flush and glazed eyes of the Potions master's face. "You'll not get that promise out of him now--the boy got to him first." With mutual smiles, they left with a smug healer grinning at them while the Potions master just stared.

As Severus had predicted, the upper hallways were alternately full then empty as students returned en masse from a Hogsmeade weekend. Separate and with proper dignity, they strode to the headmaster's office, Severus' robes swirling commandingly around him. And while it created a wide swath where they walked unmolested, it was difficult to ignore the speculative sideways glances from the older students that, as soon as they passed, became whispered conversations held between huddled heads.

Near the Great Hall, they almost collided with Perrin dashing down the corridor, heedless of where he was going. At the last moment before impact, the boy pulled up short, chest heaving, mere inches away from the dreaded Potions master. Looking like he was going to cry, he blurted out profuse apologies to both 'Professor Snape' and 'Mr. Potter'.

Harry couldn't watch--from the glare he levelled at the first year, he just _knew_ Severus was going to be brutal, and was therefore shocked when Severus commented mildly, "Mr. Long. Could you be so kind as to point out to me where the fire is?" When Perrin gaped at him, obviously trying to call to mind something, anything to say, Severus continued. "Ah, I see. Then there is a troll somewhere behind you?" Perrin shook his head. "Hmmm. Then, perhaps, you can explain why you are recklessly flying down the hallway sans broom?"

Perrin stared, obviously confused that he hadn't been blasted. Yet. There was still time. "Uh, you see, uh--"

"I have found words of more than one syllable can be quite illuminating, Mr. Long," the Potions master interrupted him dryly.

Back on familiar ground, Perrin said, "I'm late for my detention with Professor Flitwick, sir."

"On a Sunday, Mr. Long?" Severus eyed him a moment, his face stern to those who didn't know him, but Harry could see his mouth working to contain a small smile. "Five points from Hufflepuff for running in the corridors and three inches of parchment, minimum, on Professor Sprout's desk no later than Wednesday on what you could have possibly done to earn a weekend detention from Professor Flitwick and why you won't do it again. That will be all." As Perrin moved on with a respectful nod and a sigh of relief, he stopped as if pulled by a string when the Potions master called out to him, "Oh, and, Mr. Long?"

He turned around with a cautious, "Yes, sir?"

Severus almost smiled. "Make haste a little slower next time." And with Perrin's, "Yes, sir!" ringing in the hallway as he walked away quickly, Severus and Harry continued to the headmaster's stair.

Harry shook his head. "Wow. You were almost 'nice'. I think I see now what the problem has been all this time; your trousers pinch, thereby cutting off the circulation to the more pleasant parts of your brain--I can see where that would make _anyone_ testy. Maybe you should wear these robes more often."

Arriving at the bottom of the headmaster's stairs, Severus glared at him. "Hardly. I seem to recall a promise I made not too long ago to a certain insolent brat that I would at least attempt to display the minimum required civility to the boy."

"True," Harry said and belatedly added, "Thanks." As Severus said the password, he asked, "Have you heard anything?"

Moving onto the first tread, Severus asked, "What? About the boy's mother?"

Harry joined him. "Among other things, yes." The stair started corkscrewing to the top.

"No, and as his guardian, you and perhaps Sprout would have been notified first in any event."

As Severus and Harry rode the stairs up, Severus wrapped his arm around Harry's waist, inexplicably needing the contact. They reached the top and had just separated at the landing, when the door opened and Albus stepped out. He stared at Severus, his tired eyes tracking over his face as if drinking in the sight of him. His face solemn, those eyes closed as he whispered something Severus could have sworn was, "Thank the gods," before opening them to beam at them both.

"Come in, come in," Albus said brightly, ushering them into his office. Once the door closed, he nodded to Harry, patting his shoulder absentmindedly, before placing his hands on Severus' shoulders, squeezing gently. "It is so _good_ to see you well, my boy."

Severus smiled. "As a wolf of our mutual acquaintance is so fond of saying, 'it's good to be seen'."

Albus chuckled and with a little shake, he said briskly, "As always, Poppy wants to see you before we talk." He leaned over and whispered to the younger man with a glance back at Harry, "You know how these healers are--the most stubborn individuals on earth--can't take the word of another; oh no, always have to check it out for themselves."

Severus raised a brow and dead-panned, "Are you suggesting they take _our_ word? At face value? For anything?"

"Ah, well, yes, I--" he tilted his head to the side his eyes glowing with mirth "--I see your point." He turned Severus and gave him a little nudge towards the back of his office. "Go, see Poppy before she wears out my carpet."

Severus smiled and went over behind the spiral stair where a table and chairs were tucked in for impromptu or private meals such as the one they'd enjoyed the evening the three of them had discussed Perrin. Pensively seated at the table, Poppy jumped up when she heard him approach. Giving him a hard hug and a kiss to the cheek, she remarked, "So it finally happened."

"You both knew it would, or I would not be here for you to examine," he replied pragmatically.

"Such a risk; however, Albus always did have more faith in others."

"That's probably to the good, for I have little faith in anyone or anything other than Harry."

She studied his face even as she ran her wand over his body. "Not even in yourself, Severus?" she asked gently. When he shook his head, she said, "Well, then, that will just have to be enough then, now won't it? Are you ready?"

Severus snorted in amusement. "For the future? Faugh! Is anyone, really? Was Albus? Were you?"

Poppy smiled, her eyes far away in memory. "True, life has been full of many surprises. But for this? He's so young."

"Who? Harry?" When she nodded, he continued. "He is no younger than Albus was when he came into it, although Harry does benefit from Albus' tragedies. And one has to question just how young Harry really is or has ever been. His first battles, whether personal or otherwise, were done as a child, alone for all the help any of us were able to give. There may be twenty one years separating us, but most times it doesn't show except in the texture of his skin. I admit, you and Albus had the advantage of facing your foes after you were established adults with years experience between you." His voice gentled. "Yet for all the battles that Albus has seemingly fought alone over the years, _his_ lioness, standing in the shadows, bore as much as _her_ serpent."

Poppy retorted quietly, "Pish. If the man is good and strong at his core, there is not much to bear except the occasional 'reminder' of who and what he really is. You should have no problem with this--I suspect the back of _this_ serpent is as strong as the shoulders of _his_ lion. And while I think on it, need I 'remind' you that you also fought by yourself, unsupported, _young_."

Severus shrugged and recited, "'The fate of the lion is to bear; the fate of the snake is to share.' Seems the old headmaster's adage still works even if the roles are reversed." He chuckled, saying, "Any quick, last minute advice from one pedestal to another before we join the two old men?"

"Nag."

"Nag?"

"Come now, Severus, you know, the endless repetition of unpalatable truths?" She laughed. "Be grateful that you search for something to grouse about. It won't be too long before you'll be holding a lottery to choose which dozen or so you'll limit yourself to." Her face softened. "And of course, never forget, not even for an instant." He nodded, knowing of what she spoke, and leaned over to kiss her forehead.

She cleared her throat, eyes misty. "It's a rough road you will both travel, full of wonders and trials. But yours will be hardest, you know this. And should you need it--you know where to find me," she said, her voice hoarse.

"Of course I do, Poppy. Right by Albus' side where you've always been, just as I will be at Harry's. All in all, not so bad. Quite good, I would have to say."

Nodding her agreement, she linked her arm in his and they went back into the office to join 'the two old men'.

* * *

Severus had no more left the area when Albus turned to Harry and gave him a long hug. Stepping back, he said, "I hope you forgive me for ignoring you for a while--" 

Harry flashed him an understanding grin. "It's all right. I'm happy to have him whole, too." Suddenly uncomfortable, he looked at the floor as he asked, "You do have Severus' memories, right?"

"Yes, I removed them before Quiesta contained the curse as Severus was concerned they might interfere with your binding. It seemed better to be safe about it than risk any problems. It will be easy to return them, but I'm afraid not so easy for him to take them. Are _you_ prepared?"

"Is anyone ever prepared to be confronted with those things they heretofore only suspected?"

"No, I suppose not. But I have every confidence you'll be all right." Harry was about speak, when Albus added, "One thing, though. Severus has his own unique methods for dealing with his own traumas. And most, if not all, of the _emotional_ distress contained within these memories was rendered harmless with the absorption of the curse." He put his hands on Harry's arms, his face suddenly quite serious. "And a damn fine job you did with that, my boy."

Sliding an arm around Harry's shoulders, he led them over to the chairs in front of the fireplace. Once they were both seated, he continued quietly. "I'm afraid that while the emotional pain may be mitigated, I removed the memories before Severus could dissipate the physical pain. When I return them, he will be in distress and, through the bond, so will you, though you may, perhaps, be farther removed from it for obvious reasons. Just in case, Poppy and I both intend to stay here to help if need be--to get you both through it."

Harry waited to see if he had more to say and when it seemed he was finished, he thanked him. Albus nodded and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. "You found everything you sought? In the library?"

"How did you--? Oh, right. Almost forgot. I hope _Poppy_ wasn't too much inconvenienced, but I found it--urgent--to get started right away instead of waiting."

"I figured as much," he said as if he were going to say more but thought better of it. "And, no, _she_ was not. Didn't even wake her. You were most fortunate in that regard, although I daresay, _you're_ not the one she would have scolded."

Harry chuckled then sobered. "Did you follow it?" he asked curious to learn the headmaster's perspective.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful a moment and replied, "It _is_ rather loud to those of us who can hear it. So, yes, I did. You'll need to learn to control it better; the power you pushed into it was too great, but that you _consciously_ used it at all was what really mattered."

"Albus, what--"

"--Later, Harry," the headmaster interrupted him at the sounds of Poppy and Severus approaching. Quickly he finished, "You should both be present when we talk about this and, right now, getting Severus reunited with his memories, if he so chooses, is of more importance. We will have time later to talk about the other."

Harry nodded his understanding and, despite his urgency, felt a keen sense of relief at the practical, almost mundane way Dumbledore was regarding the issue. It made it seem less frightening and more a part of himself, rather like talking about a mole on one's arm.

Albus put a hand on Poppy's arm when she drew near his chair. "Satisfied?"

"Of course not, but it will have to suffice," she replied drolly, giving him a quick kiss to his cheek. She walked over to Harry and, when he stood, embraced him. "You don't need me to tell you that you're both fine." He grinned, hugging her back, as always comforted by her presence as well as her words.

Looking over at the clocks behind his desk, all of them at different times, she obviously found the one she was looking for when she said practically, "We have a little over three hours before we need to get ready, Albus. You promised the manager of the ballroom we would be there a few minutes early to make certain everything is in place."

Albus rolled his eyes. "Cluck, cluck. Yes, Mother."

Harry expected Albus to get blasted, but instead Poppy chuckled, shaking her head. "Albus, it's a little crowded in here. Perhaps we would be more comfortable upstairs?"

"That is an excellent idea; might be more relaxing at that. After you?" He held out his hand, ushering them ahead of him. As they climbed the stairs, he remarked, "I debriefed Moody, Shacklebolt, and Remus earlier this morning, all I might add, a little worse for their late night in Hogsmeade. How was I to know they closed The Three Broomsticks after the ceremony?"

"And the wolf, I assume, looked worse than the hair of the weredog that bit him?" Severus quipped, climbing the seemingly endless stairs.

"Severus!" Harry exclaimed, scandalized.

"Oh, don't worry, Harry," Albus said with a smile, "It's no insult. Remus is the one who started the whole sordid series of jokes the night he and Severus buried the hatchet over a bottle or three of firewhiskey." Winking, he opened the door at the top of the stairs. "Took me a week to find the bugger and another to unearth it, too. You'd never guess where they put it..."

"Albus," Severus growled warningly.

"Oh, all right." he said, his eyes twinkling over his half-rim spectacles, "spoil sport, but I assure you, Minister Fudge was _not_ amused." He chuckled as he moved the furniture around in the sitting room, making a cosy seating area in front of the fire, the chairs with their backs firmly to the room. His eyes grew more serious as he summoned a lover's chair, setting it near where they stood, well away from the other two.

Harry supposed the arrangement was to give them privacy and yet keep them handy. Not a bad arrangement altogether. He'd tried to 'follow' Albus when he'd made the joined chair, and while he'd sensed the shift, he couldn't quite grasp what he'd done. But he saw what Albus meant about the noise. Pursuant to the tiny amount of power Albus had used, there'd been a soft 'whooshing' sound as the chair appeared--Harry snorted--out of thin air, indeed. Maybe he could talk the headmaster into explaining how he did it.

Severus was examining the chair, one Harry had only seen once in a photo featured in one of Aunt Petunia's lady's magazines. Shaped like an "S", it was made for two people so that when seated, they would each have a back and arms, but they would face each other, able to see and touch and embrace each other. However, like all of Albus' chairs, this one was a bit different. Instead of a short seat, each side was extended almost like a chaise longue so that one could stretch out. Another modification was that there was no arm between the two seats, and therefore, no impediment to the two of them reaching each other. The last thing was that the backs of both sides were tall and curved like a wing-back chair.

"Quite ingenious," was Severus' only comment as he eyed the two sides. Finally choosing the left seat, he tested the cushion by pressing into it with his hands on either side of his hips. After a moment's hesitation, he toed off his shoes, letting them lay where they fell. He swung his legs up onto the chaise and scooted back until he was resting comfortably against the back, his right hip flush with the seam between the two cushions. When he folded his hands serenely in his lap, staring unseeing at his socked feet, Harry followed suit and within moments was seated in a mirror position, his hip and leg firmly settled along Severus'.

His lover looked up at the contact, mildly surprised as if he'd forgot Harry was there, which Harry had half-expected given that he couldn't feel Severus through the bond right now. He leant forward and placed a hand on Severus', saying quietly, "What's wrong, love?"

Severus shook his head, unable to explain the thoughts pinging chaotically through his head. He did and he didn't want this.

Albus watched him carefully, knowing from both Severus' and his own experiences with _Legilimency_, precisely what was bothering his old friend. He sat on the edge of the chair near Severus' knees, purposely placing himself so Harry couldn't see him. His eyes gentle, he said, "We don't have to do this now, my friend. In fact, we don't have to do it at all. Say the word and I will destroy them; perhaps it is time you found a little peace with your past."

Severus shook his head. "Nice try, Albus, but you know I must take them back; however, you have a point about when." He glanced at Harry. "Perhaps now is not the right time."

Harry tightened his hands. "Is _any_ time 'better'?" he asked reasonably.

Severus held his calm gaze. "No, I suppose there is no such thing as a 'good' time, but better?" He looked away, his brow furrowed.

Harry considered what Albus had told him earlier and realised Severus was hesitating because, as always, he wanted to protect Harry from the memories' brutality and from the remnants of past recollections that always seemed to cling to the new through association. "If not here, then in your dreams," he mumbled to himself, knowing that for him to leave would only delay the inevitable.

"Pardon?" Severus asked, his head swivelling back to Harry, who leant forward to place his hand on Severus' neck and jaw.

Eyes locked, neither one saw the headmaster stand and join Poppy by the other chairs.

His thumb stroking his husband's cheek, he said quietly, "Severus, our pasts created us, our present defines us. I love who you are. If you don't want to take the memories because you don't want to face them right now, or if you want me to leave so you can nurse them in private, I'll understand and do whatever you want, but do not delay taking them simply because you wish to spare _my_ sensibilities or harbour a mistaken belief that I will love you less for them. That is not possible. _Mihi insum, Tibi insum._ Together, we can face anything."

As Harry invoked the bond, Severus felt something hard and cold loosen inside him, another small dark place within him surrendered only to be whisked away forever in the tide of the love he could feel flowing freely through him from his bondmate. He gripped Harry's wrist and, turning his face, kissed his palm, his other hand tightening on Harry's in his lap.

Thus joined, they did not hear Albus come behind them as he said, "_Ubi bifarias eratis--_"

To which they inevitably replied, "_Unus iam sumus._"

And as it sang through them, Albus sorrowfully uttered, "_Reversus Obliviate_."

As soon as the words left Dumbledore's mouth, Poppy murmured, "_Te apud constanter manebo, neglegens si magno mihi stetit,_" and grabbed his hands, holding them tightly against the grimace running across her husband's face as the memories swiftly transferred from him to Severus. She led him, shaking, to their chairs by the fire, but instead of taking one of her own, she sat in his lap, arms wrapped around him, holding him, as he rode out the spell and the visions he could not help but see for the second time. In time he quieted, and she kissed his forehead, urging him towards sleep, saying she would watch for them both. He nodded and, with an absolute trust, he closed his eyes, murmuring, "_Semper te amabo_," as he drifted off.

Oblivious to the drama unfolding behind them, Severus and Harry rode the waves of Severus' missing past, the bond gentling the invasion, more so than if he'd done it alone.

_Avery's whip--hide the screams... Draco cutting his chest--Draco cutting dandelion stems in first year with the same look of concentration... Biting back the pain as Avery laid a new pattern--Screaming as Voldemort forced himself into his reluctant body... The blood dripping off of Avery's knife--the blood running unchecked down his thighs as Voldemort took his depraved pleasure... Remus telling him a story about a prince--Remus shrinking back from him as he threatened him in the hallway... The smell of sizzling flesh--the sickly sweet smell of burning incense... Remus releasing him from the stock--holding Remus fast, drunk, crying after Sirius' death... Bethany in the hallway healing them--Bethany vomiting all over his robes... Knocking Avery back with his staff--Avery groping his body..._

At Harry's soft cries of distress, Poppy stood and peered over the top of Albus' chair. Harry, his face a study in horror, had pulled Severus almost in his lap, arms holding his mate tight as sweat rolled down their faces. Severus' grip on Harry's robes threatened to tear them asunder and without thought, she whispered a spell to make them impervious. She glanced down at her bondmate's peaceful face and moved over to her own chair so as not to disturb him.

_Hold it in, don't let them hear you, to scream is to be weak. Roll it in a ball, wind it tight, hold it at bay. Later, later, until you can curl into yourself and release it and howl in another place, another time. The time, is it now? Am I safe? I can feel Harry. He loves me. He won't laugh._ The ball of pain unfurled.

With a hoarse shout, a keening wail filled the room. Poppy stood, casting a sphere of silence around Albus' chair and, once assured he would continue sleeping, she knelt in the seat of her chair, her hands grasping the back as she watched and waited.

Severus arched, rigid with pain, his hands clawing the air, as Harry, hands extended, timed his movements, his eyes fixed on his lover, his concentration complete. When Severus folded on himself, his updrawn knees tucked under his chin, his arms wrapped around his shins, Harry scooted over next to him. Poppy nodded her approval when his hands rose and made firm contact with Severus' temples, his eyes closing. Fixing the sight in her own memories, she sat down to give them their privacy.

_Overwhelmed by the pain surrounding him like a wind-swept storm, Harry traversed the pathways, mitigating his mate's pain as he found it. Inch by inch, system by system, he searched and destroyed the bad things he found. A healed muscle torn in anguish, a phantom cut throbbing with salty blood, he sought them all, determined to stop the agony wherever he found it, further, deeper--_

"No! Not all of it. I need some of it to keep it real."

Harry immediately withdrew his hands, folding them in his lap, anxiously waiting to see what Severus needed. Panting, his husband slowly uncurled, falling back heavily against the chair, his legs eventually stretching out as he rode the last of it by himself, separate, as he'd asked. It was over, the memories firmly seated where they belonged, not wonderful, but his. Finally, he raised tired eyes to Harry, open to him.

Harry took his hands. "Better?" he asked, rather than feeling for himself.

"Much. I'm sorry you had to see that."

"You're sorry? Severus, I am--" he searched for the words, "it haunts me you had to go through all that to teach _ME_ a lesson. If it's possible, I feel worse than I did when I almost killed you with that curse after I left Hogwarts."

Severus chuckled weakly, "Ah, but _that_ lesson served the purpose of giving me hope that you could love me, so in my humble opinion, it was worth every moment you suffered at my side." He moved closer and took Harry's face in his hands. "I never expected our vows to bind us like this. _Non iam solitarius sum._ This lesson was one of trust; I needed to trust that you would continue to love me unconditionally, and you needed to learn to trust yourself."

Harry kissed him gently. "But is any lesson worth the price of your blood? Your suffering? If it had to be anyone, why not me? My hurts seem so small and petty sometimes compared to yours."

"I'm not sure it is something one _can_ compare--" he stopped, his face still and sober.

"Severus, what's wrong?"

"It just occurred to me that although _you_ can't hurt me, I find that I _can_ be hurt now."

Harry tilted his head, perplexed. "How so?"

Severus gave it some consideration. "After that night with Voldemort and Avery, I resolved never to give them the satisfaction of hearing me scream again and learned over time to control the physical pain. And because of it, I enjoyed a certain knowledge that as long as they couldn't touch me _inside_, they could never really hurt me. I had no ties to anyone I really cared about until you came along."

Harry began to see where he was going and whispered, "No."

"Unfortunately, yes. And now, it only took Lucius a few minutes to break through years of control to reduce me to a blathering simpleton. Now I can be devastated. I'm vulnerable." When he saw Harry's stricken, regretful face, Severus knew he'd misunderstood. Framing his face with his hands and kissing him, he murmured, "_Semper te amabo._ I would _never_ trade my life with you for anything and certainly not to diminish my own weaknesses."

They shared a serious kiss, a perfect meshing of lips and hearts, one that wound with their bond, strengthening it as each freely accepted the other with a trust that did not require proof to be believed. In slow degrees, a barrier they'd not known they'd carried dropped, imbuing them with a freedom with each other that while liberating, bound them closer together.

Severus held Harry for a long while, both settling into the new feelings within them. After a while he whispered, "I told Poppy I had no faith in anyone other than you, but I see now that maybe I was wrong; perhaps, now that I know what _you_ see, I can allow myself to have the same faith in me."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he said nothing at all, except what he could with the warmth of his body and his heart. Sometime later, they pulled apart, hands smoothing skin and fabric, reluctant to separate, but knowing they must.

Severus stood and held out a hand to help Harry up. They shared one final embrace before Severus said ruefully, "I think it is now _your_ time with the headmaster." He tilted his head at the soft snores coming from the chair by the fire. With a return of his wicked gleam, Severus asked, "Whose turn is it to wake him?"

* * *

TBC


	34. Part III : We Are What We Are

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth   
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever   
**Chapter Thirty Four : We Are What We Are**

**26 October 2003**

Much to Severus and Harry's disappointment, Poppy anticipated them and woke Albus herself. Her 'timely' reminders followed them down the stairs where tea service for three awaited them at the chairs by the fire in Albus' office. With little fanfare, Albus moved a small table to hand for them and wordlessly conjured a third chair; Harry watched him with rapt concentration while Severus sat back, ready to silently observe the exchange.

With a grunt of frustration and a shake of his head, Harry exclaimed, "It's driving me mad! How do you _do_ that? I did fine last night turning various objects into chairs until I tried to change one from a molecule of air--and it didn't work!"

Pouring the tea, Albus chuckled. "Well, I suppose, if one has sufficient time on their hands, it can be done--" he handed Severus a cup "--providing, of course, you figure out where you're going to put the other molecules you'll displace." He handed a cup to Harry and winked. Pouring his own, he asked, "Tell me, Harry, to the naked eye, what is the difference between one single molecule of air versus one billion?

Harry wondered if this was a trick question. "Um--nothing?"

Albus smiled. "Precisely and yet the removal of a small patch of molecules of air is not going to asphyxiate anyone," he picked up a biscuit, waving it in the air, "unless, of course, someone is standing right where you displaced it," he took a bite and spoke around it, "in which case it is safe to assume the person would be more concerned with the sudden appearance of the object than the lack of air."

Harry's face brightened. "It can't be that simple." When Albus nodded, still nibbling, Harry set his cup down on the table. He concentrated and within moments a dining chair hung for a split second in the air high above their heads before plummeting to the ground below.

Quicker than thought, Severus' wand was out, the chair hovering harmlessly a few inches off the floor. He raised a brow at Harry, saying dryly, "Perhaps you should work on molecules a bit closer to the floor."

Harry flushed with a muttered "Sorry." He turned to Albus. "That was fairly easy, but--I _still_ don't know what I'm _doing_."

Albus thought a moment while sipping his tea. "Hmmm. You don't know as in what or _how_ you do it, or as in controlling it so it does what you want?"

"I think I figured out what it is I do," Harry said slowly. "I can change the _Schema_ of objects and people without using the _Sanos_."

"All right then. What's the problem?"

"I know what, I don't know how, _and_ I don't know how to control it."

"Oh, I think I see--you want to know what changes you effect in yourself to be able to do this kind of magic--is that what you mean by 'how' you do it?"

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, filled with excitement.

Raising his cup in a salute, Albus said, shaking his head, "Ah. Haven't a clue. Sorry, but there it is. I think it and it happens--that's the most _scientific_ explanation I've ever heard."

Harry sighed heavily and turned to his husband. "Severus, how do you read _Schema_? Have you ever thought about it?"

Severus settled into his chair, his eyes hooded. "This is most intriguing. I wonder if your continuing need for concrete explanations is a part of your early Muggle upbringing?" When Harry started to bristle, he waved his hand, shaking his head. "No, Harry, I meant no insult; you have consistently insisted on knowing the 'why' and the 'how' for every aspect of magic ever since you came to Hogwarts, and I know you feel slighted when others quite reasonably tell you 'just because', but the fact is, nine times out of ten they are right--there is no other explanation other than 'I just do'.

"I know, but you're as insatiable as I am in this sort of thing. Surely you have theories--?"

"Well, yes, there is that." He chuckled. "I believe it can be safely said that I was at least as annoying as you have ever been in questioning everything that came my way. And I suspected, at the time you attended Hogwarts, that you were _my_ penance for plaguing my teachers. However, that does not further this discussion. Let me ask you--did you know the _Schema_ of the chairs or the objects you used?"

"Yes, I knew the _Schema_ of each."

"Did you know what process you used?"

"No. That's what I don't understand."

"I think I got that. However, did the objects still change into chairs even though you did not know 'how' you were doing it?"

"Well, yes. You were there. You saw it."

"We're not talking about _my_ perceptions. We're trying to find _your_ answers. In a similar vein, did you know the _Schemata_ involved when you changed the curse?"

"Not initially. I eventually 'found' the _Schema_ for the curse (although I was not familiar with it except for the description of it that I found in the library and that was not a true catalogue), but I already knew the ward's _Schema_ quite well."

"Nevertheless, you knew the _Schema_ of both, whether found or known is immaterial to this discussion, what matters is that with no knowledge of 'how', you still accomplished it, yes?"

When Harry nodded, enthralled with the conversation, Severus continued. "What about when you changed the Dark Mark?" he asked, glancing at Dumbledore, who sat forward.

"I can't tell you what I did, I was asleep."

Severus put his hand over Harry's. Judging from the storm gathering on the headmaster's face, this was news to him, and he looked like he was about to explode. Mildly, Severus said, "Fair enough, I can tell you from my own observation that you read it and then changed it to ordinary skin, something which I assume you know very well. Didn't hurt a bit, either. And once again the how of it--"

"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted, his voice harsh. "Show me!"

Rolling up his sleeve, Severus held out his left forearm, as smooth as the day before he'd taken the Mark. There wasn't any indication it had even been there in the first place.

The headmaster sat back in his chair, stunned, muttering, "I tried. Severus tried. Hell, not even Voldemort could remove his own Marks. What the hell did you _do_, Harry?"

Seeing the panic on Harry's face, Severus interposed smoothly, "Perhaps because its maker was dead it was possible? I don't believe I ever asked you to try _after_ Voldemort died," his voice hardened, "did I, Albus?"

Oblivious, Harry whispered, "Good gods! _What am I_?"

As if coming out of a fog with the tone in Severus' voice, Albus looked at Harry in alarm. Trying to undo the damage from his outburst, he said, "You're Harry," stating the obvious.

Harry shook himself and pulled his hand away from Severus' as if he'd been scorched. "No, not who am I! WHAT am I? What am I becoming?" He closed his eyes. "Like Voldemort? Some kind of monster?"

Albus said soothingly, "No, Harry. You are no monster. You are who and what you have always been. That is somewhat separate from what you can do or choose to do."

"More of your choices, Albus?" Harry ground out, his hands shaking. "If you don't know 'what the hell I did', then how can you know anything else about it?"

Severus decided that Albus had played with this enough. The waves of agitation and fright coming off his mate were quite oppressive and totally unnecessary at this point as far as he could see. However, he did have to acknowledge that Albus usually had good reasons for the way he went about things, at least with him he had, so he thought that perhaps it was time he tried to steer the conversation into more productive lines. "Albus, what _do_ we know?"

Albus sighed almost in gratitude and Severus found it odd to see the his old friend at a loss. "All right. Let's take stock, shall we?" When he had Harry's attention, he ticked off on his fingers, saying, "You have adequate skills in _Occlumency_ more so than _Legilimency_, but you are by no means a master of either. You have no peers with your use of the _Sanos_ and of course Horatio appreciates your _Parselmouth_ skills. What you are _becoming_ is a formidable _Schematamagus_."

"A _Schematamagus_?" Harry asked, rolling the word around as if trying it on for size. "_Schematamagus_? What is that? Or should I say who? Is it a secret or something?"

Albus looked perplexed and then smiled. "I'm beginning to think that that the inclusion of these lessons is improperly placed in the History of Magic; perhaps establishing an advance orientation for those who are Muggle-born might be useful." He thought for a few moments and asked, "Had you ever heard of a _Metamorphmagus_ before you met Tonks? Would you have known what she was if she hadn't told you? Would you not have just assumed she knew more charms than you did?"

Harry frowned. "No, I hadn't, and I suppose you're right. It wasn't on any of the lists of specialties we studied. Ron and Hermione knew, though, when I asked."

Albus shook his head. "Well, so it goes for the _Schematamagus_. That there are _Schematamagi_ is not so well known among Wizarding folk in the first place, it's not something we tell people we are unless we trust them and their motives implicitly. I am sorry, Harry. I was not trying to be dramatic about this. I had thought that with the right clues you could draw your own conclusions. A bit difficult that, if you don't even know we exist."

Harry looked askance at him. "We?" he asked, brow raised.

"This, Harry, is what you and I are. _Schematamagi_--Wizards capable of manipulating, changing, and creating new _Schema_ in anything--or anyone."

"Wait a minute, you said before 'have always been'." His eyes narrowed. "When did you know?"

Albus replied, his eyes carrying his smile, "I recognised your unconscious ability to read the _Schema_ early on and tested it before your sixth year when I had you open all of Severus' cabinets and make the potion. Severus confirmed the talent after you'd been studying the _Schema_ for your sixth year when he pointed out you had the potential, but that he could not teach it to you."

Harry turned round eyes to his husband. "_You_ knew, too? And you never told me?"

Dryly, he replied, "If you'll recall, I mentioned it last night that I knew you could change the _Schema_ since you were sixteen."

As Harry remembered, he had the grace to flush a bit. "Oh. So you did." The question burning, he blurted out, "But did you know I could be--_this_?"

Severus nodded, his voice low and soothing as he said, "I knew you had the potential to be one, yes. Albus is right, I suspected you were capable of it when we were studying the _Sanos_. I am considered something of a _Schema_ scholar, a collector if you will, and yet you almost outstripped me the first year, and in your second left me in the dust several times with how quickly and accurately you could understand the nature of things--and people."

Harry glowed with the unexpected praise, even if it was six years too late. "And of course you could say nothing of this to me," he commented dryly, a small satisfied smile on his lips.

Clearing his throat, Severus said quite seriously, "Unless the work is truly stellar, I do not compliment any student as it tends to breed fatal overconfidence."

Harry pulled his head back in surprise. "You truly believe this?"

Still serious, he replied, "In the more volatile disciplines, I have witnessed it."

Harry mused quietly, "Well, that explains a few things." To Dumbledore he said, "One thing bothers me. You keep talking about choices. You have all the time I've known you, I guess. Does this mean you are concerned that I can be more corrupted by this--ability--than any others I have?"

"No, Harry, I firmly believe your inner core has always been strong enough to resist the temptations your magic has dangled over time." He raised a brow and, lowering his head slightly, gave Harry a significant look. "And I think you have a better idea of what I mean, given what happened last night." Harry started. Seeing that Harry knew what he meant, Albus continued. "However, that same confidence cannot be expressed towards some of the others in your life; there are many who, if they knew of it, would seek to use your abilities to further their own goals, which might not be your own."

Harry interrupted him, staring at Severus. "Those are almost the exact words you used with me when you were showing me my career choices."

"Just because someone else said them first does not make them any less valid when spoken by someone else at another time," Severus replied with a telling glance over to the headmaster.

"While Severus is not the first, nor will he be the last, to whom I have expressed this sentiment, in this regard, he is a good match for you because he _is_ strong enough to resist the pull of your magic--his moral and magical core is strong enough to remain his own person. Your life goals are the same and because of your marriage bond, among others, you are each your own checks and balances as you cannot hurt each other--either intentionally or unintentionally."

Harry exclaimed, "So you _do_ think I could hurt people! Is this why you bound us, for Severus to be my conscience? To keep me from harming others?"

Albus leant forward, his eyes intense as he stated forceably, each word enunciated clearly, "Hear me well, Harry. _Anyone_ with our talent has the potential to do great good or great harm. It is our _intent_ that makes it so."

He waited to make sure Harry understood what he was saying. "You once asked us about the difference between dark and light magic, and Severus was correct when he answered that it is the intent, the choices of how and when it is used that makes any action, let alone magic, bad or good. In the same fashion, the intention always drives the result with the _Schemata_. If you intend to harm, you will, whether conscious or not. If you intend to help, you will with the same conditions and consequences. This is how one changes a _Schema_ without knowing how, and why a strong awareness of what you are about and the motives of those around you is so important. Do you understand?"

Harry took a deep breath and sighed. Severus watched him closely, quite unsettled with the mixture of impressions from his husband. A man of strong emotions himself, he was almost overwhelmed by the confusion and fear and something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but it _felt_ like the shock and despair he'd only observed before when Harry had finally realised he would have to kill to win the war. He couldn't be sure, but whatever it was, it wasn't positive. Moving his chair closer, he leaned over and captured Harry's hand, holding it with his own. Maybe if Harry could feel _him_, he would _feel_ better.

Albus, watching their interaction and the emotions playing across his friends' faces, regretfully knew he would have to make it worse before it could be better. It was important Harry see all the facets. To this end, he continued gently, "And whether you like it or not, it _will_ drive how you interact with yourself, with Severus, and with others."

He suddenly looked very tired. "I know you think I'm a meddlesome old man, and to a great extent, I am. I know you don't think I speak plainly enough, don't share enough of my thoughts with you. However, would you or anyone else, not really knowing me, keep me in good regard if you knew that, at any time, I could _make_ you do my bidding, that I could take your very core and twist it to whatever I wanted? Would any of you follow me, even now, if you thought in any way you were being so coerced? _This_ is the truth of it. _This_ is what Voldemort sought from me--my _and now your_ ability to make people do what we want them to do _should we choose to do so_. Would you so choose?"

Horrified, Harry shook his head. Severus' hand tightened on his and Harry bowed his head in gratitude for the love he could feel washing over him.

"No? I didn't think so. But there it is, Harry. Without the humility, without the morality, without the _perspective_, and yes, even the whimsy, we could _both_ be another Voldemort, or a Grindelwald, or any other Dark Lord we might choose to be. And I think it safe to say, this is not what either of us would ever want. So instead I find myself prodding people in certain directions, setting them up to respond in certain ways, but it is always their choice, _never_ a compulsion." For the first time in a while, he smiled. "And it doesn't always go the way I planned it, or wanted it, especially with you two."

Severus chuckled, gratified to see the small smile on Harry's face, although his eyes still looked haunted.

"So, did I expect Severus to be your conscience? A hard question, overall, to answer. Harry, it is vital we have someone to ground us, someone who in the balance of things is equal to us. I have Poppy, you have Severus. My wife may not be my equal magically, but she is more than my equal emotionally--no one can bring me down to earth like she can. Severus, on the other hand, while equally capable of balancing you emotionally, is also your equal in many other respects."

His voice growing hoarse, Dumbledore warmed his tea and took a sip, peering over the cup to gauge Harry's reactions. While it appeared the worst was over, the furrow in Severus' brow spoke of some internal conflicts to which he was not privy. But he knew he had to finish this. "You may be a _Schematamagus_, but your bondmate is a powerful _Legilimens_ and _Occlumens_. Had the authorities known just how powerful and skilled he truly is, they would have sent him to Azkaban years ago and given him the kiss. Now the only kisses he'll get are from you."

Severus snorted, but made no other move to interrupt him, so he went on. "You may be a _Parselmouth_, but Severus, if he so chooses, has the potential to be an _Animagus_, which we cannot." Albus waited for the surprise in Severus' eyes to turn to speculation before he finished with, "You both carry the _Sanos_ ability, and Severus also has a strong _Schema_ talent when he sees the synergy of his potions; it's what makes him a formidable Potions master with few peers."

He turned his regard to his old friend. "Severus, your magic balances Harry's as does your native common sense and deep core of morality. I was so proud of you when you refused to just jump up and chase Peter Pettigrew, even knowing we were right in what we said of him. I have always been proud of your keen sense of justice and you, as much as Poppy, have held me in check more than any other people in my long life."

Thunderstruck, Harry whispered, "Did _you_ choose Severus as my mate? Did you _manipulate_ us to be together?"

Severus startled at his question. Trying to buy time to ascertain what exactly he was feeling amidst the maelstrom of emotions flowing from Harry right now, he commented, "Hmmm. Interesting question. Well, old man?"

Albus laughed heartily, his merry face at odds with the question. "Oh, Harry! Asking me that is like asking me if I made the bees hunger for flowers. The attraction between you two was, and is, as strong as the sun to the inner planets." Still chuckling, he said ruefully, "No, while it's tempting to think so, I cannot take credit for fate."

Quieting, his eyes thoughtful, he added, "Although, I think it's safe to say you were also drawn to each other because of your strong _Schema_ abilities, which, among other things, requires one to 'read' someone else to 'know' them. This, more than anything else, is why I insisted you write the Epithalamium. It was essential you _consciously_ understand who you were and what you felt for each other or else the bond would have been weakened. And you will need all your combined strength in the years ahead. This was my gift to you--the binding of your magic."

When they failed to respond, he quietly explained his motives. "My time is passing, sooner than I'd like, but not as fast as it appears. There is still time to pass my legacy on to you both. Severus, to you, I need to give the remainder of my _Legilimency_ skills and the secrets of the Orrery. To you, Harry, the guidance you will need along with that of your teacher for the _Schematamagus_ skills."

Severus was curious, even though he thought he knew the answer. "What about Minerva? Isn't she, as the next headmistress, a more appropriate choice to wield the power of the Orrery?"

Albus shook his head. "No. Unfortunately not. Minerva has her strong points and certainly could be taught _how_ to use it, but she does not have a bondmate to protect her. Using the Orrery has its inherent dangers; it can drain one's energy to nothing if one is not careful."

"So you will train Harry in this as well?" Severus asked cautiously.

"Actually, Poppy would probably be a better teacher in this regard for Harry. After all, she's the one who has had to rescue me more times that I care to admit." He laughed lightly, his gaze far away in his memories. "However, be prepared to get a proper scolding upon the occasions her lessons becomes a necessity."

Severus chuckled but stopped when a glance at his husband revealed him to be deep in thought, the pensive, distant look well known; Harry was gnawing on something previously said. He was about to ask him what was wrong when Harry spoke up.

"Albus, you said you will guide my teacher? Why can I not learn from you?"

Gently, the old man replied, "Your training may take more years than I have, my boy. I would recommend you either to go to Professor Augustus Gimbley at St. John's or we might consider keeping Septimius here as he is a skilled _Schematamagus_ as well."

At Harry's perplexed frown, Severus said, "Having Septimius around might be 'interesting', but you should wait until you meet him before making any decision."

Harry asked, pressing the issue, "Is it important I only have one teacher?" At their looks of surprise, he added, "I do not want to spread myself too thin again with this new study, my work both here and outside, and my personal life."

Dumbledore sensed there was more, but said nothing. "You have a valid point. Let me think on it; this is not something to rush into--we can talk more about it when you get back." He looked over at a strange clock on his mantel, full of floating balls rolling around each other. "I'm afraid our time grows short. I must leave you now to get ready for tonight. I assume you are going to attend?"

Severus nodded, distracted by Harry's continuing external quiet that by no means revealed his internal turmoil.

"Take all the time you need," Albus said. He reached over and patted Harry's hand. "It will be all right, you'll see."

Not convinced Harry had heard him, but certain, with the understanding stare he'd given him, that Severus had, he stood and went to the stair to his quarters without further comment. Halfway up, he stopped, his eyes softening as he watched them walking to the door, their bodies canted towards each other, although even here, they did not touch. He knew they would be all right; Severus would help Harry through this crisis, and a serious one he somehow knew it was, even though he hadn't peeked. He briefly regretted he would probably cause them even more tonight at the reception, but it couldn't be helped. The wheels were in motion, the players set on the stage. It was now time to see the drama unfold.

* * *

Severus and Harry walked to their quarters, each silent with their own thoughts. Once inside, Severus stopped, concerned when he noticed Harry standing still just past the entry, as if this was as far as his active volition could take him. Worried over the paleness of his features, he tried to open the bond, but found that either Harry had closed him off, or else was so deep in his own turmoil he couldn't feel him. He took Harry's hand, stunned at how cold it was. When he received no response to his hand caressing his lover's face, further investigation revealed a passive, unresponsive body, almost rigid, the exposed skin chilled despite the warmth of the room; he began to suspect Harry was in some kind of shock.

Quite understandable given the circumstances.

He needed to get him warm and, taking Harry's hand, led him, unresisting, to the bathing pool. At the edge, it was a matter of moments to shuck their clothes, his magic flinging them to the side. He wrapped his arm around his lover's waist, guiding him down the stairs like an invalid into the steaming water. A gasp at the heat was his reward for the effort, but he got no other response. By slow degrees, he drew Harry over to the other side, settling him on the ledge near the middle. As he sat down next to him, he noticed that Harry's body floated limply as he made no attempt to hold himself in place.

Feeling the first stirrings of alarm, Severus slipped an arm around his shoulders, his free hand settling Harry's head against his elbow. Not knowing what else to do, he ran his fingertips down Harry's arm, until he reached his hand. Taking it, he curled it up out of the water and held it with his own against Harry's chest. He leaned in and softly kissed Harry on the forehead, ghosting his lips over his eyes, his cheeks, his lips and, just as he was about to despair, he felt his lover twitch, his head falling back against his arm.

Heartened, Severus let go of his hand and continued his journey down Harry's throat, inch by inch with both mouth and hand until he could feel a stirring in his own skin as Harry slowly came back to reality. He knew he was making headway when Harry mewled deep in his throat, the hand left on his chest rising to slide up Severus' arm, to his shoulder, to finally rest at the back of his head, Harry's fingers tangling in his hair. Raising up a bit, he brought their mouths back together, nipping with light touches of his lips and tongue. Harry's mouth moved under his, just a little, his own tongue slipping out to touch Severus', to guide it back into his mouth.

The kiss grew from chaste to sloppy and wet as open mouthed, their tongues slipped around each other, lapping and stroking and sucking at each other, the only part of them interacting for the moment. Like fire melting ice, Severus felt a warmth slowly spread from their joined mouths down his neck to his shoulders and on as Harry began to thaw, his skin flushed. Severus used his hand to follow the heat as it spread, the fingers tenderly stroking each area as it came to life, until his hand settled into the 'V' of his lover's legs, the heat pooling at the point as he fondled him, his hand inevitably seeking the hardening length, holding it against the flat abdomen as it stretched from its place of darkness.

Harry's arm, floating freely in the water, fastened around his lover's waist, followed by his legs as he wrapped Severus within them. Their bodies pulled together, straining against each other as the kiss deepened, Harry's hand still twined in his hair, holding his head in place as their mouths mated, tongues sliding against each other to the pace Severus set with his hand fisting Harry's cock in the water below.

There was a desperation he could feel in Harry, something more than the need for release from the havoc Severus wrought, something he was urgently trying to tell him with a body fraught with more than simple desire. And Severus 'listened', his body trying to fathom through touch what Harry could not yet express in words.

They were close, Severus could feel the tension coiling within him from his lover, his hand never faltering in its rhythm. Harry tore his mouth away. "_I_ chose you," he gasped, twisting as Severus continued to stroke him long and hard from base to head, the rigid length almost jumping in his hand as the head slid in and out of its slippery foreskin. Harry's hand fell from his lover's hair to grip Severus' biceps hard as the pleasure spiralled through them. "No one else--_I_ did--ahhhh!" His breathing rasped loudly into the silence and with a thin wail, he pulled on Severus with arms and legs, drawing him tight to him, his whole body taut as he hung on the edge.

"Oh gods, Severus! Only you!" he exclaimed, pushing into Severus' hand as they came, the thick ribbons of their release floating away with the current until all evidence of their passion was gone. Panting, his eyes wide open, Harry pulled Severus' head to his, kissing him fiercely. "Only you," he murmured into his lips harshly, "there's no one else for me." He dropped his head back to the edge of the pool while Severus tried to soothe his lingering distress with hands and lips. Harry's fingers stroked his cheek, his eyes and voice intense. "Do you understand, my love?" When Severus kissed him gently, Harry pulled away, his eyes searching. "Of all the souls--"

The bond blazed through them, bringing with it clear understanding.

"--_I_ wanted only you," Severus breathed into his mouth, _knowing_ now what Harry had struggled against. And to one whose every choice had been stripped from him since birth, the thought that his lifemate had been chosen _for_ him, that the feelings he had might have been engineered, was devastating.

It was a question he, Severus, had never thought to ask; had they really chosen each other? Or were their choices hidden in the machinations of an old man well known for them, by his own admission? And they'd found their answer, the truth of their choices carried by the bond pulsing through them, for it could not lie, it could only mirror the truth within them.

_They_ had chosen each other.

The desperation and terror he'd been feeling strongly from Harry throughout their time with Dumbledore, was gone, shattered by the gentle persistence of their bond. The serious kiss they shared, arms tight around each other, Harry's legs wrapped around his own, brought only a perfect accord, a joy as buoyant as the warm water surrounding them. Severus gently flipped them so he was resting against the side of the ledge, all thoughts of bathing lost as he held his bondmate snug in his arms, the peace within so rare, he refused to move as long as he could savour it. They were _together_, they were _one_, they were _loved_.

It was _their_ truth.

* * *

"I look like a prune," Harry groused on their way back to their bedchamber.

"Although few would credit that I know anything about bathing, I have found that long periods of immersion in water has that effect."

Harry, his arms wrapped tight around his chest just laughed, his teeth chattering, "Hurry, it's cold. I hope Dobby's springtime is still there, I'm freezing."

"Well, you don't look like you're in any danger yet, lobster boy. Although there's steam coming off your skin, you're not yet turning blue."

Entering the warmth of their chamber, Harry heaved a sigh of relief, his limbs loosening. Turning to face Severus with a wicked grin, he asked, "Lobster boy?"

"Hmmm, yes," Severus murmured against his neck, his arms twining around Harry's waist and back. "You're a lovely shade of red from our bath. A bit wrinkled, though, but I think I can work my way around it."

"Damn, Severus," Harry gasped, his neck extended, arms gripping his husband's shoulders to steady himself, "Will this ever let up?"

Walking him backward through the field towards the bed, Severus feasted on Harry's throat. Raising his head to smirk at the man grousing with his eyes closed, face scrunched in hedonistic concentration, he snorted and went back to his 'work', muttering, "When you get to be my age, I'll remind you of this moment." Harry's knees hit the bed, and he sat abruptly, his legs wide. Severus followed, pushing him back, his arms taut as he held everything but his groin off of his husband.

Harry moved underneath him, earning a groan as they slid together, his arms raising to grasp Severus' shoulders, pulling him down. "C'mere, you," Harry whispered, his head already angling to take a kiss when his mate got there, his eyes half-closed watching their bodies press together in degrees as Severus came to join him, lowering his head to receive the kiss Harry had ready for him, his forearms supporting his weight on either side of his lover. He'd just taken the kiss, pushing Harry deep into the bed, when his mate ripped his mouth away with a "Ow, damnit! What the hell is that?" as he struggled to pull up from the bed.

Dazed, Severus pushed on his legs and stood, his eyes focusing slowly. Harry sat up, twisting at his waist to look behind him. "My back! There's something in my back!" he cried, his arms working behind him unsuccessfully.

"It's a long pin," Severus said as he reached over and carefully worked the piece of jeweled metal still deeply embedded in Harry's skin despite the small tear it had made when he sat up. Holding its wicked length to the light, he asked, "How did this get here?"

"Um, I think it was attached to this," Harry replied, holding out a note and pointing to a soft, cloth wrapped package on the bed.

Severus put the note and the pin on the bedside table. "Turn around and let me look at that; you're bleeding."

The cut was small and shallow. A quick spell later, he was much more comfortable as Severus healed the small hurt. "Kiss it and make it all better?" Harry asked, chuckling. He shivered at the puff of air on his back as Severus snorted and did just that.

Shaking his head as he straightened, Severus plucked the note off of the table and, opening it, read:

_Dear Severus,_   
_I hope this small apology will adequately compensate you for the error I made last evening with the spell I cast to keep your clothes from sticking to you. However, I do have to admit the only real regret I have is that I didn't think to do it on purpose, but I consoled myself with the vision of you trying to get them off. On your honeymoon no less. While you and Harry might not agree, the thought was quite amusing._   
_All the best,_   
_Carlotta Quiesta_

Laughing, Severus handed the note to Harry, unable to speak for the moment. As Harry started chuckling, then grinning, Severus sat on the side of the bed and opened the package. When he hissed in a breath, Harry looked up from the note to see what could have caused such a reaction and gasped.

Severus had folded the cloth all the way back to reveal formal dress robes in the darkest black he'd ever seen, so deep, the tone on tone weaving in the heavy silk of the outer robe shimmered in the soft light of the candles, making the dense silver thread work running around the wide collar and cuffs glow. Closer inspection revealed that the intricate design of the chasing was that of tangled snakes, each forming continuous Celtic lover's knots. Near the chest in the centre of the collar was a silver circlet with a simple rendition of their glyph, the sides of which were open, ready for the pin Harry had so precipitously found to be inserted, thus making a clasp. A thin chain with a cap on the end was welded to the back of the circlet, its purpose clearly to shield the sharp end of the pin once in place.

Wordlessly, Severus flipped the folded shawl collar back to reveal an under robe of the same fabric, sans design, in a style similar to the one he'd worn that afternoon, only it buttoned. A high mandarin collar and a waistband of the same fabric as the outer robe's collar completed it. He fingered the cloth of both, murmuring, "It's not stiff. For some reason I thought it would be. Quite supple, really. Amazing."

Harry was the first to recover, sitting on the bed facing his husband, the robes between them. "Hmmm. What's it worth to you for me _not_ to tell her that she rendered you almost speechless?"

Severus looked up at him, stunned. "I can't accept these."

"Why ever not?" Harry asked reasonably. "I did have to destroy yours." When Severus shook his head, Harry put a hand on his arm. "I'm not so naïve as to not know that these robes are extremely expensive. However, so were yours, and one has to ask what price can be set to compensate for the destruction of your wedding clothes? There are many things one can say about Quiesta, but one thing I learned in my time with her was that, despite her sharp tongue, she has a keen sense of fair play and equality. Obviously she thought the loss priceless, hence the reciprocated value of this replacement. Quite the compliment, really. Please don't insult her apology by refusing them."

Severus nodded thoughtfully, running his hand over the robes again. "Very well, I'll wear them. But if she makes _one_ comment about her 'visions'--"

"I'll help," Harry said with a smile. He covered Severus' hand where it still rested on the robes. "They _are_ quite handsome, although not nearly as fetching as what will fill them."

Severus raised a brow and leant over to kiss Harry. Regretfully, he pulled back sooner than either one of them would have preferred, saying, "I suppose we should be getting ready."

"Ah, Dad, do we have to?" Harry joked, standing.

Severus eyed Harry's delicious arse as he made his way over to the wardrobe. "Careful, boy, or I may think you need some discipline."

Harry looked at him over his shoulder, waggling his buttocks. "Ooo. Detentions! I can't wait!"

Severus put his hand over his eyes, shaking his head at the lascivious vision Harry sent him as he muttered, "Promises, promises. I think you just ruined me for life." He stood and separated the inner robe from the outer on the bed and started unbuttoning it.

"Oh? How so?" Harry asked, stepping into his boxers.

Slipping the robe on, Severus began the arduous task of fastening it, sighing as the fabric whispered sensually along his skin. "How can I be properly stern and sneering handing out detentions if _that_ is what I see in my head every time."

Harry laughed, pulling on a different inner robe than the one he'd worn the night before. It was of a darker blue, matching the outer robe, but of a lighter woven silk, the fabric almost sticky to the touch. "Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something. Severus Snape without detentions? The world would end."

"Hmmm, I had better, or else my reputation will be ruined forever."

With a grin, Harry teased, "I thought that had already happened when you married down."

Severus paused, the outer robe pulled half on. Smirking, he said, "I think you have that backwards. If you'll recall, most people think I married up."

Harry shrugged. "Up, down--makes no never mind if we're not talking about sex."

Smiling at Severus huff of laughter, Harry stood in front of the Muggle mirror, smoothing the lines of his outer robe, adjusting the cuff to compensate for the drag of the nubbly inner robe. Refocusing his eyes, he saw Severus' reflection behind him watching him, his expression softened by whatever thoughts were running through his mind. Noticing Harry gazing at him in the glass, he straightened, his face falling into its normal severe planes and angles. Harry didn't need to ask what, or more accurately, of whom he'd been thinking; the caress of the bond across his heart was hint enough.

Satisfied with the fall of the robe, Harry walked over to his bedside table and, picking up his wand, he slid it into a soft holder built into the sleeve of his inner robe along the left forearm. He squelched a small concern that he would not be able to wield it with any speed should the need arise, but mentally shrugged, thinking it was only a party. That is until he remembered who some of the 'guests' would be. He wryly thought that under the circumstances, given what he'd like to do to a couple of them in particular, it might be best if he didn't bring it all. However, he had to wonder if they would dare show themselves. Vaguely uneasy, he asked, walking over to his lover, "Speaking of appearances, do you think the Malfoys will show up tonight?"

Severus, who had been visually following Harry's train of thought as it flitted across his expressive face, replied with some irony, "What? And take the chance we'll say something without them there to refute it? Of course they'll attend. Both of them. They are well aware we can say nothing as long as they are present."

Harry tilted his head in confusion and asked, "Why is that? What prevents us from telling everyone the whole sordid mess? Who would they believe--them or us?"

His hands stilled as he put the cap on the pin, Severus stared seriously at him, his brows drawn contemplatively. "Would you really do so? Would you announce to the guests that Lucius Malfoy caught a werewolf and a former Death Eater? That he 'punished' us? That he tried to drive me mad and, as much as I hate to admit it, almost succeeded?"

At the rebellious comprehension on Harry's face, Severus continued gently. "No, my love. I think not. Not when Lucius has you and countless others as such impeccable alibis for his presence in Diagon Alley through much of the day. Not when I am so obviously in good health. And certainly not given our respective reputations in the community."

He ran his hand down Harry's face and carded his fingers through his hair while murmuring, "So loyal. You'd have everyone see me the way you do, wouldn't you?" Harry leant into his hand, his eyes closing as he nodded slightly. Severus gave a harsh huff of resignation before bending slightly to kiss Harry softly. He whispered into his lips, "They'd no more believe you on this than they would on the other. Only you--" Harry pressed their mouths together before Severus could finish.

The waves of comfort, unstintingly offered, were a balm, easing his small hurt. Severus knew he shouldn't let the perceptions of others harm him in this manner but, despite his best efforts, it always did. He deepened the kiss, telling Harry in his own way how little all of the external things really mattered.

When Harry drew back, his eyes opened, the deep green holding a new understanding as he murmured, "Only me."

* * *

TBC


	35. Part III : Seeing Double

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Thirty Five : Seeing Double**

**26 October 2003**

Severus Snape-Potter could now recite with his eyes closed more ways to say his new name than he had ever wanted to know. He'd never experienced more people invading his personal space, even at the more crowded Death Eater meetings, and if it weren't for the steady presence next to him, he would have hexed the lot and gone home to brood in the dungeons. As it was, he stood in this parody of a reception line, forced to graciously accept the sentiments of every bloody witch and wizard on Albus' list and not scowl.

Over the course of the evening, he'd found that being pleasant was easier than he'd thought it would be because it turned out his presence wasn't really required; it could have been a reception line of one for all the attention he was given. That Harry was well aware of the neglect and was angry at it on his behalf did give him a bit of a boost, but for the most part (as he'd tried to convey to his spouse with a hand on his back and a surreptitious nuzzle on his neck made to look like a whisper) he didn't mind as it freed him to let his mind wander (to which Harry asked if it was leashed as he would hate to see it get lost).

Cheeky brat.

When they'd first arrived, fashionably late, they'd expected the party to be well on its way, so it was with some surprise they found themselves among the first to arrive. That happy state of affairs, however, had ended too soon. Poppy had no more settled them in their receiving line of two (not counting the Aurors flanking them 'just in case') when the guests had started arriving in droves. It was almost as if the invitations had held a cue that said, "Don't bother, they're not there yet." Or, as his mind grew more fanciful with the tedium, perhaps each of these guests had actually left their domiciles hours ago and had been held in some kind of stasis awaiting the happy couple's arrival. Given Dumbledore's whimsical nature, he supposed either could be true, although he knew the latter would hold a greater appeal to the old scoundrel as he always liked a 'captive' audience. Which led him to wonder what would have happened had they decided not to show up at all.

For the first little while, individuals or couples stood out as they passed by. The new trophy wife of Victor Goyle (had her name really been 'Bunny'?) who seemed to think that her low cut robe revealing her admittedly well-rounded bosom would earn her more than a sneer. Mrs. Dawlish with her little puffskein Fufu tucked in the crook of her arm (growling he might add, whether at him or her Auror husband standing behind him was unclear). He had to wonder how she could afford all the glittering rings, some two-deep, on her plump fingers. And who could forget the positively drooling Mr. Glace, who'd stood mesmerised while limply holding his husband's hand. Harry, at first gracious to the star-struck old queen, eventually had to stamp on his foot to get him to let go when Severus' growls (and the Aurors' not-so-gentle grips on his arms) had no effect. He really didn't think he deserved the dark glare he'd received as the man had finally moved on.

After an interminable time, the sheer numbers clumped together into an unappetising melange. There were the 'well-wishers', each with almost the same words spoken in differing timbres reflecting their varying degrees of sincerity, mostly 'in'. Then there were the human abaci who, with only a quick eyeing of their robes, would calculate their worth to the Knut. The older matrons in particular seemed to have this talent in abundance. Sprinkled liberally within the mixture were the slobbering sycophants (who had arse-kissing to such an art form it almost gave rimming a bad name) standing side by side with the slavering 'you-would-be-so-much-happier-with-me' excreters who only came to see the beautiful 'boy-who-still-lived-even-if-he-has-no-taste-in-lifemates'. Harry usually had some tart 'Severisms' (as he called them) that, although familiar, seemed different when tripping off his lover's tongue (and my, didn't _that_ agile appendage--among others--figure into many of the images they sent to one another to stave off the eventual boredom).

But one thing remained steady through the entire fiasco; it was the oddest thing of the evening in fact, occurring infrequently at first, and then with startling regularity. Intermittently, some of the older guests would stop in mid-greeting, stare at him, Severus, as if he'd grown a third eye, then shrink back with the most amazing looks of disgust, and whisper to their companions as they moved off (quite loudly as if he couldn't hear) that it was _such_ a pity that _such_ a beautiful and brave young man had married _such_ an ugly, grotesque creature. By the third one, Harry was muttering imprecations under his breath, or at least Severus hoped that was what they were; the blackly amusing images floating over to him sometimes bore a remarkable resemblance to the scorching words his husband uttered. By the twentieth or so, he'd begun to be grimly amused, if not a bit confused. By the thirtieth, he'd leaned over to whisper to his spouse that perhaps he should brush up on his spectacles spells instead of his hexes. By the fortieth, the situation was so absurd, even Harry had begun to laugh.

Yet all were eager to be seen with the happy couple (or at least the other half of the happy couple) at this misbegotten reception Dumbledore had planned without them. Indeed.

Upon occasion, someone would thoughtfully press a glass of champagne in his hand, and as soon as they were gone, he would place it on the table behind him, untouched. Between the two of them, there was such a collection of filled glasses, they could have had their own private party if they were so inclined. When his thoughts turned to what that dalliance might entail, Harry snickered next to him and, leaning over to press their arms together, murmured, "Not in front of the kids."

Another glass appeared in his hand and he was about to set it aside when a soft, "_Dobby_ brought the Professor something to drink," made him look down at the tall glass in his hand, barely catching the disappearance of the shyly grinning house-elf. It looked like champagne, but when he raised it to his nose, found it was merely disguised water with a bit of lemon. He drank gratefully, the wet tartness exactly what he needed to soothe a throat raw from swallowing unuttered caustic comments; he raised a brow when it remained full. It _almost_ made up for the bees in the field.

And still the arse-kissing continued. Oh, there were a few exceptions. Harry's best friends, for example. Although he would rip out his tongue before divulging it out loud, he secretly had to admit he'd grown rather fond of them and had found, like the other witnesses, he could sense Ron and Hermione's 'gifts' to their marriage bond. He'd been forewarned that Hermione would not take no for an answer (and he knew from the night before that it would take a stronger persuasion than his scowl to dissuade her from her enthusiasm) so he was at least partially prepared for her eager greeting of a firm hug and buss to his cheek. When she and a quietly sincere Ron (who, thankfully, had shown no similar exuberance) had moved away, he leant over to whisper to Harry, "Affectionate little thing, isn't she?"

Harry chuckled and Severus had no more straightened to greet the next person when he felt Harry stiffen next to him with a low growl and a menacing hiss of Parseltongue. He was unsurprised, therefore, when he looked over to see Lucius Malfoy enter the ballroom, a carefully groomed Bethany by his side, followed by a scowling Draco escorting a very young woman in rich robes far too heavy for her dainty frame. They stood impatiently while the Aurors guarding the entrance took their cloaks. Watching the dynamics, Severus noted the thunder in Draco's face as Lucius obviously admonished him, most likely about his expected behaviour, while Bethany leaned close to the young girl, whispering, her hand soothing against the girl's arm in blatant comfort. Just as the line of people evaporated, Bethany touched Lucius on the sleeve, nodding her head slightly in their direction.

Holding out his arm to her, his head held high, Lucius and his entourage approached, the crowd at the door parting for them as if they were royalty. Severus bit his lip rather than snort at the image Harry sent him of looking up the man's nose and seeing a shriveled fig for his brains. When the next image he received was of both male Malfoys lying on the ground, smoke rising from their dead bodies, he took a quarter step back and moved his arm to place a hand protectively on the small of Harry's back. "Steady," he whispered, feeling the hard tension in Harry's spine.

"Who's the girl?" Harry whispered, looking over at him, his calm face belying the taut cords in his neck. "She can't be more than 15 or 16."

Severus answered quietly, "Eunice Crabbe, Fifth Year. Not as vapid as her older brother, but just as malleable. Fortunately takes after her mother."

Harry nodded and said nothing more. Within moments the four of them arrived. Inclining his head imperiously in greeting, Lucius spoke low, but loud enough for those around them to hear. "Ah, Severus. Harry. Well met. Our best wishes to you both." He guided Bethany to his side. "I do not believe you have had the pleasure of meeting my wife, Bethany."

If Harry descried the subtle insult of the introduction or noticed the flicker in Bethany's eyes when she took Severus' hand to compliment him, he said nothing, nor did he react to the shadow of mischief around her mouth when she firmly took his hand with a sincere, "It's a pleasure to _finally_ meet you. My best wishes for a _long_ life together to you both."

In a small breach of etiquette, she stepped back to join Lucius before Harry could reply; he did not miss that she'd been skillfully pulled back by her husband. Draco stepped forward, towering over the young woman hanging almost desperately onto his arm. Eyes defiant, he nonetheless took his father's words to heart when he said stiffly, "Professor. Potter. Our--best--wishes for you both." As Harry hoped he'd choke on the words, Draco pulled the fearful girl forward, not outwardly rough, but Harry saw her small wince. Without noticing her distress, the arrogant young man said, "I would like to present my fiancée, Eunice Crabbe."

Severus felt sorry for the girl, who reluctantly removed her thin hand from Draco's arm to take his as she offered her murmured felicitations. He could feel it shaking in his hand as he inclined his head, his face as pleasant as he could make it under the circumstances. "Miss Crabbe, as your Head of House, I thank you and may I offer our best wishes in return on your recent betrothal." Instinctively he knew he'd not caused the sudden terror in her eyes at his simple statement. It made him want to throttle the younger Malfoy, but he kept his face neutral, making a mental note to keep an eye out for her when he got back from Hana. Maybe he should alert Minerva and Poppy beforehand since they usually counseled the young females of all the houses in this sort of thing. He certainly couldn't think of any useful advice _he_ could possibly give her, except, perhaps, "Run!" or "Do you know how to use a knife?"

With these thoughts, he somehow missed whatever it was Draco had softly said that made Harry's jaw clench so hard it popped, but, whatever it was, it had lit a fire of anger in Lucius as he put his hand on Draco's shoulder, the knuckles whitening. With a false chuckle, he decried, "One would have hoped that schoolboy rivalries could have dissipated with time, although in this case it appears that once cursed with one, always _cursed_. No matter. We should not hold up the line any further as there appears to be others who also seek to _capture_ your attention."

This time Severus gritted his teeth. He was about to utter something he was quite sure he would regret later when Harry spoke up quietly, "Perhaps you are right, Mr. Malfoy, but I have found, in my admittedly limited experience, that _curses_ of that particular nature are only as strong as those who sustain them." He slid his eyes over to Draco and then back to stare at Lucius. "Of course, it's always refreshing when one's able to _break_ them."

Severus choked back his bark of laughter at the rising choler in Lucius' face, his thin lips pressed tight together. There were many things about Lucius that Severus hated, but he'd always admired his control. Harry's, on the other hand, was only a thin veneer hiding a deep pulsing anger. Every second the two stared at each other, Severus could feel it intensifying. What at first had been a comforting hand on the small of his back, now became an anchor to keep his husband from launching himself or his magic at the man he confronted.

The Aurors around them tensed.

With the two men concentrating so strongly on each other, Severus hazarded a glance around and saw several people, including a reporter, riveted to the scene building before them. Bethany, her own cautious gaze fixed on her husband, happened to catch Severus' eye. With a flash of understanding (and a bit of regret) she nodded her head slightly before shifting her attention back to Lucius. Severus slid his hand up Harry's spine until it rested lightly on his nape, the fingers gently massaging the rigid muscles under the soft skin. At the same time, Bethany subtly brushed her hand and stomach against her husband. The results for both were instantaneous. Harry's tense shoulders immediately dropped; looking at the floor, he began to chuckle.

Lucius' head tilted down, his downcast eyes looking at Bethany behind him. With a deep breath, he turned to his wife, holding out his arm with a, "Come, my sweet, you and Number Two must be famished." Wordlessly she took it, both hands squeezing tight. Lucius looked sharply at her and finally relaxed when he saw the raw concern in her face. As they turned away, he snapped his fingers for Draco and Eunice to follow. Forgotten in the foray, Draco sneered at Harry as he passed, Eunice clinging to his arm.

With a deep sigh, Harry lifted his face to Severus asking, "How juvenile would it be to just stick my tongue out at him?"

Resisting the temptation to kiss him, Severus murmured, "Not nearly as juvenile as me hexing him into next week," while sending Harry a picture of what he'd rather be doing with his mouth.

Harry flushed a little and leaned back slightly, touching their bodies lightly together. "Thanks. I'm very glad you were here to stop me because 'hexing' him was the least thing on my mind."

"Um, sirs?" They both turned to look at the Auror, Denley, who with his partner had effectively blocked the line after the Malfoys had left. Severus felt chagrined that he'd been so involved with Harry, he'd not even noticed it. "Do you want to continue receiving guests or should we tell the rest that they're too late and to just go on in?"

Harry spoke first, which was probably for the best because Severus still wanted to pack the whole lot of them up and send them home. "No, I'm all right. Go ahead and send them on. I'm sorry I held things up; something about that man just makes the hairs on my neck stand up."

"You and everyone else," the Auror muttered with an understanding smile as he stood back letting the people in the line continue.

Some time later, when the last two passed through (a Mr. Colch, the Associate Administrator of St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and his homely wife, Nadine) Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Rubbing his sore and reddened hand to get some circulation back into it, he muttered a spell to remove the inevitable swelling from shaking so many hands. Despite Severus' murmured, "You needn't bother, they were not nearly as enthusiastic with mine as they were with yours," Harry took Severus' and whispered the same spell while stroking the back of it with his thumbs. As they stared at each other, communicating through the bond their desire to be elsewhere, a flash went off, breaking their communion. As one their heads turned to glare at a grinning Colin Creevey, now a free-lance photographer for the various newspapers, including a couple of Muggle rags.

"Mr. Creevey?" Severus began, taking a step towards him. Colin's grin got even bigger, and with a wave, he melted into the crowd. Severus scanned the area and, shrugging off his failure to find the brat, turned back to find that _his_ brat had been swept away from him. He swore softly with annoyance; it was bad enough to have to be at a function like this _with_ Harry, pure torture to be at one _without_.

However, after a few fruitless minutes of searching the crowd, he gave it up and nursed his ever-full glass of lemon water. He slowly made his way through the crowd, unsurprised at the lack of greetings, until he arrived at a raised corner occupied by another small group of Aurors. He found he had a commanding view of the room and while he used the advantage to try and spot his husband, he also worked his way through the odd feelings coursing through him after their encounter with the Malfoys.

For some reason, he'd thought the inevitable encounter with the Malfoys would leave him feeling angry and mortified; however, after further reflection he realised this unexpected, undefined ebullience within him had everything to do with Harry's combative reaction to them. In that instant, when Harry had held Lucius in an unspoken challenge, his husband's few words and the impotent anger rising in Lucius' face, gave back to Severus much of the dignity he'd lost over the previous day. And he wasn't certain if this was good or bad. On the one hand, this new, vindicated feeling that Harry would have defended his honour to the death made him feel light inside and cherished. On the other hand, it had felt so good, he was concerned he wouldn't try to stop Harry the next time (and he was sure there would be a next time) just so he could feel it again. He shook his head at his wayward thoughts. No, he was being fanciful. He had felt too many protective feelings towards Harry for too many years; he would never let him challenge someone just to make himself feel better.

"Professor Snape?" He turned his head to the Auror standing next to him. "He's over to the right, about twenty feet to the left of the punchbowl, standing with Minister Weasley. Just look for the knot of red hair."

As the Auror stepped back into his group, Severus nodded his thanks and looked in the direction the other man had indicated. Having a target, he easily spotted his husband and unconsciously smiled. Harry may have been part of the group, but his gaze rapidly scanned the crowd and when he saw Severus, their eyes connected. Harry's apologetic smile turned into a boyish grin, his eyes widening a bit when Severus opened the bond and let it connect across the room. With a wink, Harry turned his attention back to Arthur.

With Harry's comforting presence inside warding off the manic feel of the event, Severus went in search of a certain sneaky, conniving headmaster who would probably have a perfectly reasonable excuse for breaking an inviolable Wizarding Contract. It didn't take long for him to spot Dumbledore off in the opposite corner, surprisingly by himself, casually watching the crowd, although Severus knew from his stance that it was just a pose; Albus Dumbledore was on full alert.

Severus made his way purposefully around the perimeter of the room, once again unaccosted by anyone interested in speaking to him. But he had to admit, as before, the snippets of conversation captured as he passed the various knots of people were enlightening in their own right. He slowed to catch as many of them as he could knowing somehow that Albus was not going anywhere. And he'd been right; Albus smiled pleasantly as Severus approached.

Stopping before him, he crossed his arms debating how he should handle this. Deciding direct confrontation instead of his normal round-about way of asking might loosen the old man's tongue, Severus said, "We had a contract, old man."

"So we did, Severus," he answered equably, that damnable twinkle rampant in his eyes.

Rocking back on his heels, Severus thought about it a moment. "Who did you trick into doing your dirty work this time?"

Dumbledore looked hurt. "I didn't 'trick' anyone. It was a clerical error."

Brow raised, Severus said with waspish scepticism, "A _clerical_ error?"

"Certainly, my boy. You don't think I did this on purpose, do you?" He shook his head ruefully at Severus' outrage, holding up a hand to forestall his heated reply. "All right, I suppose I should have said something when I discovered the problem, but really, the invitations were already well away and I couldn't just take them back once they were gone and opened, now could I?"

When Severus just glared at him, Dumbledore sighed. "Minerva wrote the invitations, damn fine job she did, too, and when she finished, she caught me on my way over to see Filius. I told her the guest list was on my desk, not realising that the old one I'd originally shown to Harry was there as well. I thought I'd dispelled it, but it must have fallen off the desk, and the house elves put it back; you know how much parchment I have there--I never noticed it. Going to my office alone, Minerva picked up the wrong list and sent out all the invitations to everyone on it. It was an innocent mistake."

He had him. Finally, after all these years, he had him, solidly caught. With glee Severus chortled, "Everyone on the list except Bellatrix, Albus. I overheard one of the guests saying she was livid that she did not receive an invitation." For the first time in his life, Severus was delighted to see the Headmaster speechless. He leaned over and whispered, "You know this is going to cost you dearly, don't you?" At Albus' raised brow, Severus chuckled evilly. "Oh, not now. I want to savour the options, give them time to simmer and bubble before I serve my retribution. Hot or cold, Albus? Do you have a preference?"

Albus' eyes slid all around him, then suddenly he smiled, rather like a shark about to grab a fish as he slyly asked, "How about lukewarm, Severus?"

"Tepid? No, I think not, old man. That's for old tea and old women--"

"Albus! There you are!" Poppy exclaimed as she bore down on them with purpose in her eyes. "Don't tell me you're hiding to get out of the toasts."

"No, my dear. Severus and I were just talking about the 'proper' temperature to serve 'just desserts'."

Frazzled, Poppy looked between them both and sighed. Finally settling her eyes on her husband she huffed, "Albus, I do _not_ want to know;" she moved her eyes to Severus, "however, I've always found ice cold is best for those kinds of sweets." As an afterthought, she patted Severus on the arm. "I'm sorry I had no time to talk to you and Harry in the beginning, but the caterer delivered the wrong petit--" She stopped cold at his impassive face. "Right. You don't want to know." When he smiled, she added, "I meant to tell you earlier--the robes are magnificent; Carlotta will be so pleased to see you wearing them. She was quite convinced you would return them, but I told her there were two to a pair and that Harry would probably convince you to keep them. Remarkable sense that boy has sometimes. Anyway, I scolded her proper this morning when it finally dawned on me what spell she'd used last night. You and Harry must have had a devil of a time getting them off--probably had to shred them I shouldn't wonder."

Refocusing his glazed eyes, Severus remarked dryly, "Actually, after exhausting both our supplies of spells, Harry had to banish them." Then, seeing Dumbledore's smug expression and the _look_ they both exchanged, he chuckled. "And it seems to me there's two to your pair as well. Well done, Poppy. For the moment, I am defused, but--" and he leaned over to whisper in her ear, "after tonight, all wagers as to my good behaviour are off."

Chuckling, she patted his cheek and whispered back, "Oh, I don't know about that. As long as you give him a few second's head start, I'll see your bet and raise you." She pulled back, her eyes merry. "Albus?"

"Mmmm, yes, dear?" he answered, bemused by the exchange.

"Toasts?" she asked, cocking her head at him.

"Oh, right," he replied. With a piercing glance at Severus over his spectacles as Poppy took his arm, they left.

"Don't count on it, Mrs. Dumbledore," Severus muttered to the empty space beside him. "Don't count on it."

* * *

Beyond the chaotic noise and the simpering toadies, Harry hated functions like this and if one more person congratulated him on a feat done over four years ago (conveniently forgetting why they were here in the first place) he was not certain he could be held accountable for his actions. That Severus was largely ignored (or regarded with outright disfavour) as he cruised the room made Harry's blood boil, especially in light of how the Malfoys were often as much a favourable part of the various conversations as he himself was. The Aurors accompanying him adroitly steered him (or them) away from each other every time it appeared they might meet, which, given the size of the old Savoy ballroom and the vast number of guests present, happened far more often than he would have thought. How like the Malfoys to try and deliberately provoke him.

He had been trying ever since they'd been separated to find his way back to his lover, but every time he'd made his way over, he'd been caught and grabbed by this group or another all bent on catching his attention for however long he would tolerate it. After a while, he'd given up, content to let the people who stopped him bend his deaf ears, his real attention focused on Severus and what he was about.

From the gleeful triumph and the montage of retributive images he was getting from Severus, Harry had known precisely when his husband met up with Dumbledore, although the amusement he felt towards the tail end of their encounter confounded him until the image of a grinning Poppy standing before the old man with a flaming sword entered his head and he realised that she'd somehow diffused the tense situation.

For a while he'd followed Severus' progress through the crowd, noting when he stopped to eavesdrop on conversations or when he moved on with barely concealed disgust (and he supposed the impossible images he received of two of the guests was a hint of what one was propositioning to the other). Once, Severus was just a few knots of people away and he watched, fascinated, as Severus thanked Quiesta for the robes--or at least he assumed he was thanking her. He shrugged; with Severus it was hard to tell sometimes. However, whatever his husband had just said made her laugh out loud, her head thrown back; if he strained, he wagered he could hear the same sound, as rare as that, from his husband.

As they continued to talk, his thoughts turned to his former teacher. When he'd first met her over four years ago, he'd been intimidated by her sharp tongue and wit. Over time, he'd realised that, unlike his mate (who liberally bestowed his barbs on anyone who crossed his path), she only used them on people she liked and could take the same in return. In this regard, she was very much like Severus; the tart rejoinders rolled out of them both with such ease, he suspected it would be a rare treat if the two of them ever faced off, providing he wasn't the target, of course.

He realised that while he'd been wool-gathering, Severus had moved off and, with a quick check of the bond, found him on the other side of the room. Damn, the man moved around a lot. He decided he was not going to be kept separate from his mate any longer and with greater determination, worked his way over.

* * *

Severus' conversation with Quiesta had been surprisingly enjoyable. After enduring a few brief comments about the robes (for which he had indeed thanked her), they settled into a comfortable discussion concerning the Owl he'd sent her. While a part of him was tempted to withhold the reason why he'd been so cagey in his wording, her earnestness pleased him and they fell into an easy give and take of information that to the casual listener was confusing, but to them made perfect sense. He got the information he needed for a new potion he was trying to make, and she got some exciting news about some new techniques Harry was trying; she resolved to talk to the man when he returned to Hogwarts as tonight was neither the time nor the place for that particular topic. The conversation ended as easily as it had begun, the two of them moving off in opposite directions.

Well aware of Harry's presence and distraction, Severus endeavored to keep his very bored mate amused with the snippets of conversation he was hearing as he became a shadow flitting through the huge room unobserved. In a way, this exercise of his retired skills as a spy was rather refreshing, and he made certain Harry knew he didn't mind being ignored as he could feel the rising temper from his mate at his supposed ill-treatment by the guests purportedly here to see them both. Indeed. It was Harry they were after and it was his light that made Severus' shadows. Which suited his pleasure; it was more fun eavesdropping where he didn't belong than actively participating.

They were all here: Death Eaters and Aurors, sinners and saints, and for the most part he could recite to himself their past escapades and speculate on their futures. He spotted Mrs. Fortesque, maven of society, who had a secret penchant for wine and for _young_ men to warm her bed. She could get both by the seemingly limitless Galleons she wielded and the secrets she could divulge (although if she knew of her husband's gambling habits, as he suspected she did, she kept that as discreetly hidden as she did her current lover). He listened in to Mr. Culver propositioning Miss Gelding, both with a secret proclivity towards things rough and binding. Her quiet, crude response to his grovelling had been most illuminating; watching them work their way separately through the crowd to hire a room to indulge in their 'play' had been as amusing as speculating the possible punishments the man would beg from her before the night's end.

He stepped over between two groups, dividing his attention while learning from one that Lucius Malfoy had been branching out into Muggle financing, something he knew Arthur would be interested to learn, while from the other he discovered that Draco had a new lover in Knockturn Alley who was routinely paid off for his silence about certain 'injuries' he received on a regular basis. The talk was commiserating with Lucius for having such a vicious son and it was all Severus could do not to join the gossiping fools and remark that they should be considering the sire as much as the offspring; the boy had to have learned it from _someone_.

In fact, most of the conversations he heard followed one of several themes. The foremost was Harry and himself and the dissenting opinions about their union. Given the responses, he almost forgave Albus his deception this evening; the headmaster's cleverness in posting their Banns far from prying and malicious eyes had been propitious, for their bonding most certainly would have been rejected by this crowd.

The talk concerning Lucius Malfoy and his continuing, burgeoning fortunes and his investments in Muggle industry and commerce ran neck and neck with the heated discussions of politics, the sometimes voluable arguments of suitability evenly divided between Arthur and a host of other various, anonymous candidates who would 'certainly be better than Dumbledore's pet politician'.

Interesting, that. They'd said the same things about Fudge at one time.

He was almost alarmed by a recitation of the number of Slytherin births in the last two years and it was when he was thinking of the ramifications to the House sortings if the trend continued that Harry sidled up to him. "One would think you would be excited by an increase in Slytherin House," he remarked quietly, running his hand up Severus' arm, when he heard what was bothering him.

Severus gazed at Harry, his eyes softening for a moment before creasing in concern. "One might be _if_ there were corresponding increases in the other Houses as well. But to the best of my knowledge there has been none out of the ordinary, which means that if the Sorting Hat is keeping things relatively even, there will be many who would be better suited to my House who are sorted into the others. I find this disturbing if their native tendencies run true."

"I don't know--might be nice to have more Slytherinish Gryffindors. At least I wouldn't be so alone. And think of the possibilities for Potions classes. The potential mayhem is astounding!" Harry exclaimed with a wicked grin.

Severus rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you loved me." His eyes moved back to the target they'd been holding when Harry had arrived.

Harry, noting that Severus was distracted by something off in the distance, asked him, "What are you staring at?"

"Who, not what." he replied, not taking his eyes off his mark. "Sprout and McGonagall. I've been trying to figure out for the last few minutes what the two of them are planning. If Pomona's wicked little glances to Minerva mean what I think they do, then they are up to no good."

"You sound fairly positive about that."

"During my first years teaching I was convinced that either Pomona had been placed in the wrong house or that _someone_ let a Slytherin head the Hufflepuffs. Oh, I know she _looks_ innocent, but she's as sneaky as--me--and was always the one behind their little escapades. Used to drive Albus batty what those two could get up to."

Harry laughed. "High praise indeed. Did they get into trouble a lot?"

Severus looked at him with pity, murmuring, "Didn't I just say that?"

Harry huffed, "Well, how am I to know? To us students, Sprout grew plants and McGonagall was our starchy Head of House. Didn't even notice them together all that much until after I left Hogwarts. And then what was I supposed to do, walk up to them and ask, 'What mischief are you two old biddies planning and can I watch?'"

Snorting, Severus replied, "Lovers, Harry, long-time lovers--so I doubt very seriously they would have 'let you watch'. Although nowadays I daresay they're more friends than anything else. They certainly didn't pledge one another, although they did share quarters for a while."

Making a face, Harry asked, "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm certain," Severus declared with asperity. "Everyone knew. I even deducted points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff one night because I caught them snogging in the corridor after curfew."

"No wonder McGonagall was so smug this afternoon," Harry muttered to himself. "And I wasn't questioning that they were lovers; I was questioning that they were _no longer_ lovers. I mean they are always together and they patrol the hallways together and--?" He let his voice trail off as a question.

Severus mulled this over a few seconds. "Well, I suppose I stopped assuming they were still lovers after you told Albus and I about McGonagall's current preferences..."

Harry stared at him incredulously. "Oh yeah--_that_. You don't think...?"

Severus stared at him with a moue of distaste. "Sprout?"

The thought and images hung between them as Harry said for both, "Ewwww."

Shaking himself, Severus said primly, "Maybe we should just see what, if anything, they're up to _now_ and see what we can do to 'help'; anything that disturbs Albus' party can only be for the good."

Making their way over to them, Harry asked Severus, "Isn't that Iacio over there?"

"Where?" Severus demanded, his head turning to search the room for the little toad.

"He's over by the punchbowl, to your right."

Severus' eyes searched the crowd and, when two ladies standing in front of them moved on, spotted the tiny man, swaying as he talked to Minister Fudge. "Ah, half-soused. Why am I not surprised?" he muttered, his eyes fixed on the former Ancient Runes Professor. There were so many things he disliked about the man, from his self-righteous parsimony to his hypocritical 'temperance' to his blatant homophobia, which had caused Harry and himself, among others he knew, quite a bit of distress before Albus had finally sacked him.

They arrived behind Minerva and Sprout in time to overhear her say to Minerva, "Who do you dislike more? Iacio or Fudge?"

"Hmmm. Now there's a toss-up," Minerva muttered, her eyes fixed on the two in question.

"I have an idea, but we'll need a distraction--"

"What are you two reprobates planning and how can we help?" Severus whispered in McGonagall's ear. He almost grinned publicly at her startled jump.

"Severus Snape!" she exclaimed holding her chest. "Damn it, do you want to kill me?"

"Hardly and that's Snape-Potter now. You do recall, don't you, what the Potter part was like?" At her calculating glance, he added, "Well, consider me corrupted."

Minerva raised a brow at Harry's grin while Pomona chuckled. "I think, perhaps you have that backwards, my dear Professor," she replied sweetly. "_Harry_ was merely mischievous; _you_ are _evil_, which makes you the perfect accomplice." She turned to Harry and patted him on the cheek. "Pay attention, Harry, and learn from the masters. Here's what we had in mind..."

* * *

With mischief managed (as Harry's father would have proudly approved), a sloppy kiss (including tongue, which had the desired effect Severus had predicted months ago), and several flashbulbs later, Severus and Harry had just stumbled away from the excitement when a matron they accidentally bumped into started screaming for the Aurors to 'take the vagrant away'. Immediately two Aurors, both unknown to Harry, materialised, one grabbing Severus roughly by the arm telling him to beat it while the other tried to pull his companion off of Severus. With everything so confused, the second Auror asked the first why he was accosting the guest of honour (with Harry demanding he unhand his husband) while his companion demanded to know why he was defending such a sorry piece of work. In the ensuing argument, Severus and Harry snuck off to a corner balcony outside to laugh themselves silly.

"What the hell was _that_ all about?" Harry asked, catching his breath.

"I haven't a clue," Severus choked out. Then his face went still for a moment. "Unless--"

"Unless what?"

"Oh, it couldn't be," Severus declared with rising mirth. "Or could it?"

"Severus, you're almost as bad as Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed in exasperation.

"There's no need to be insulting," Severus sniffed. "I think we forgot to remove the disguising charm I was using when I went with Remus to chase Peter. That must be it; those who don't know me personally see me as a vagrant whereas those who do know me see me as I really am. It certainly would explain the reaction of some of the guests to the 'ugly old man' in the receiving line."

Harry blinked and then chortled, "Oh! That's just too funny. Here, let me remove it," and suiting actions to words, Harry uncast the spell. There was a brief flash and he could only assume it was removed. "Pity in a way. We could have kept it on just to see the guests' reactions."

"I must admit, the idea is tempting if for no other reason than it would upset some of Dumbledore's plans, but I am glad to be rid of it all the same." He raised a brow, looking to both sides. "And while we're here--" He pulled Harry close and stole a long kiss. "Ah, now that's more the thing," he murmured, dipping in to take another one.

When they broke for air, Harry asked softly, "What do you say we leave now and go on to Hana."

"Splendid idea," Severus agreed. "If we're lucky, no one will even notice we're gone."

After one more long, heated kiss that left them breathlessly wanting more, they left the balcony and re-entered the party, the air close and stifling compared to that outside. They were halfway across the ballroom when Harry stopped. Staring at Lucius in the distance, Harry felt a deep hatred well up within him.

"Steady now," Severus murmured, seeing where his gaze had gone. He put his hand on his husband's arm. "I know, I want to kill him, too, but _we_ are more civilised than that, aren't we?"

"We are?" Harry queried with a tilt of his head, relaxing a bit. "Why would we do something so stupid? We _could_ get him from here, no one the wiser."

Severus chuckled. "Careful, love, your Slytherin is showing."

A few minutes later as they slowly made their way to the doors and seeing Lucius work the crowd, Severus looked thoughtful as he leaned over to ask quietly, "Tell me, what one thing would Lucius hate more than losing money?"

Eyeing the man across the room with his stiff carriage and even stiffer pride, Harry replied, "He would hate losing his position?" He gazed at his husband's devious face with obvious delight. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

When Severus whispered to Harry his thoughts, Harry's face got brighter until with a wicked grin, he exclaimed, "Oh! We can't _not_ do it!"

And so they did--to the headmaster's consternation and eternal amusement.

* * *

Long before the party was over, before the first toasts were even uttered, two long-weary lovers left unnoticed to go home, their interest in the proceedings long exhausted, their need for sleep long overdue. Or so they thought. Outside the entry to the banquet hall, a familiar house-elf, resplendent in bright red robes and mismatched socks, met them before they could Apparate to Hogwarts. With a comment that the headmaster had asked him to see them well on their way, he'd quietly spelled them out of hot formal robes into Muggle clothing of light-weight shirts and trousers, handed them a packet of their things already packed and shrunk for their journey, and finally gave them a book of erotic poetry, the Portkey to their final destination.

Grateful, the elder of the two pocketed the packet and with sighs of relief they each took hold of the slim volume, silently disappearing as it activated. After what seemed like forever, they arrived in a verge of trees on the edge of a warm black sand beach in the early afternoon. While their minds screamed 'night' to them, they quickly realised the day was still half-new in this place, ready to be lived again. Not that they really cared; thoughts of sleep occupied their minds and bodies for the moment.

Staggering along a clearly marked path through the foliage, they soon came to a small, run-down shack, its broken windows and weather-worn siding and termite-eaten, sagging roof speaking of better days before the last hurricane; the small house looked (for all intents and purposes) empty and abandoned. But they both knew appearances could be deceiving; in this case, very much so, for it was their home, a small sanctuary far away from the first bites of winter, safe and snug in the warm tropics.

Once they crossed an invisible line (which to everyone Muggle would just remind them of an errand they had elsewhere), the magical disguise and wards over the place disappeared to reveal a trim little cottage with fresh siding and huge expanses of glass overlooking the beach and the ocean. The roof still sagged, the lanai still needed new railings, and the garden still begged to be planted, but it was theirs and they looked forward to the coming week as they planned to make repairs with the assistance and companionship of their island friends.

The dark coral steps up to the lanai were new and certainly better than the old rotted wooden slats they had replaced. While they barely had enough energy to climb the stairs, they had sufficient to lean against one another, one pair of arms wrapped snugly from behind around a slender waist as they both gazed back the way they'd come, their bodies sapped by the languid heat working its lazy magic on them. The younger one leaned back against the elder, breathing deeply of the foreign, yet welcome, scents of their second home.

He turned to face his husband in the loose circle of his arms, perching on top of the sturdiest rail, face lifted in invitation. As he slid his hands up the firm chest in front of him to encircle the strong neck and shoulders, the arms around him tightened as the tempting mouth descended to mould to his, their homecoming marked by a kiss as sweet as the scents of the plumeria blossoms littering the lanai and as tender as the breeze gently ruffling their hair.

It was the most natural thing in the world to deepen the kiss, for the body on the rail to open up, to draw his lover closer to him with arms and legs, for the arms wrapped around the slender waist and back to tighten, to pull his beloved closer until their hearts beat as one, their tired bodies content. When it ended, they held each other close, eventually parting, each knowing they needed to move sometime soon.

"Ben says they fixed up a room for us until we can get the place in shape," Harry murmured languidly.

"Quite thoughtful of them, really, as was all the other work they did on the outside," Severus replied, loosening his arms enough to stroke the firm back under his hands. "When I received his last letter, he'd mentioned they'd done a little work, but I'd no idea they'd done so much."

Taking the hint, Harry unwrapped his legs, letting them swing freely against the rail, which started to lean with the movement. His husband stepped back, tightening his arms as he lightly pulled him off the rail to stand in front of him. The rail swayed once and then fell over into the weeds below. Twisting his body around to look at it, Harry remarked dryly, "Well, love, I guess we have our work cut out for us this week. However, Ben's left the passwards and I'm knackered. What say you we indulge in a late afternoon cuddle and nap?"

With a smile and a kiss to his forehead, Severus said, "That, my love, sounds like one of your better ideas."

"Better? All my ideas are good, I'll have you know," Harry remarked laughingly as they approached the entrance.

Raising a brow and chuckling, they opened the door and stepped into the--

"Oh!"

"Wow!"

* * *

TBC


	36. Part III : Alone? At Last

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Thirty Six : Alone? At Last**

_Edited for FanFiction:net: 239 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods. I apologise if this feels choppy in any way, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site._

**27 October 2003 HST**

They'd never expected the welcome awaiting them. While Ben had written that he'd 'cleaned up a little and would leave them a bite', Severus and Harry had assumed (given the casual attitude of their friends) this would mean a quick sweep with a broom, a futon thrown on the floor (hopefully with a sheet and pillows), and if they were very lucky, a laden picnic basket. But certainly not _this_.

The room before them sparkled. Literally. The stars winkled in the heavens, the charmed ceiling reflecting a clear night sky, the rest of the room in darkness despite the sunshine they'd just left. As they gazed in awe, candles lit simultaneously throughout the room, some on a table set off to the right, some hanging randomly in the air at differing heights, illuminating the large front room.

However, most of them clustered thickly around a giant four poster bed. Made of turned wood, it almost filled the room. The coverlet and mounds of pillows gleamed in the candlelight, hazily visible through the closed gauzy curtains made from the finest netting that fell gracefully to puddle on the floor. At either side of the bed were bright coloured carpets, thick and lustrous in the glowing room.

The top of the canopy frame appeared to be covered in vines, but closer inspection revealed four thick garlands of leaves each draped in a graceful arc between the bed's post newels. A shallow wooden bowl about the width of a medium cauldron with a long slender leaf on top like a lid stood on a low open table at the foot. Curious, Severus walked over and saw it was filled with a small bit of water and what looked like tiny, white, coarse pebbles on the bottom. A note addressed to the two of them lay beside it.

Meanwhile, Harry lifted the hanging curve of one of the garlands. The way he held it with both hands spoke of its heavy weight. He sighed deeply after burying his nose in it, saying, "Hmmm. Smell this, Severus. It's almost like sweet pepper."

Severus joined him, note in hand, and Harry held a portion of it up to his nose. Inhaling deeply, and again, a small smile lit his face. "Most unusual. Peppery but with a hint of spice. I wonder..." He took another sniff, fingering the smooth texture of the leaves. With a deft touch, he bruised a leaf, the sweet scent strongly filling the small space between them. "Quite intoxicating, in fact," he murmured, bending down to touch his lips gently to Harry's, the kiss feathery and chaste. They parted, the redolence surrounding them as calm as their hearts.

When they eventually moved apart, Harry saw the paper in Severus' hand. "What do they have to say?" he asked quietly, running his hand up his lover's arm.

Reluctantly releasing the garland, Severus broke the seal and read aloud:

"_Aloha olua!_

"_Assuming you must be exhausted from the reception, we've left a light dinner warming in the oven for you. We're sure you've noticed the bed. Sorry we only had time to prepare the front rooms; we can move the furniture into its proper place tomorrow after the back room's cleaned, if you like._"

Harry looked around them and asked, "He's apologizing for _this_? Whatever for?"

"Ben's a bit understated at the best of times and very Asian. I wouldn't worry too much about it," Severus said sagely and then resumed:

"_I'm sure you've explored a bit by now and have some questions. The bowl contains sea salt and spring water. We used it and the Ti leaf across it when Aunty Noelani blessed the house this morning. The tall plants in the corners and by the door are also Ti and hold the house's wards. We'll have to plant them in the garden around the house sometime this week to complete the spell._"

Severus sniffed. "Seems Ben has our entire week planned. The roof, the lanai, and now the back rooms and the garden."

Harry laughed. "You make it sound like we're going to do it by hand. A wand works wonders, you know."

Severus leant over and kissed him. "Well, yes, _wands_ do have their uses," he waggled his brows, "but if you'll recall, Ben said in one of his letters that most of the outside work will need to be done the hard way as this whole area is crawling with Muggles."

Harry's eyes opened wide. "You're joking, right?"

"Hardly. And that's what you said the last time, too." When Harry protested, Severus chuckled. "Who was it I heard huffing and puffing up the stairs the other day? Seems a little physical fitness wouldn't be too remiss for our resident 'do-you-know-how-bad-that-is-for-you?' grouser."

Harry couldn't very well argue the point and settled for murmuring, "I used to like working in the garden--" he looked up at the ceiling "--but even with the four of us that roof will take all week by itself."

"Oh, we won't be alone. Ben said he'd invite some friends to help, both wizards and Muggles."

Harry fluttered his eyes. "OooOoo. Half-naked, hot sweaty men working in the sun? Be still my beating heart!"

Severus raised a mocking brow. "Tiring of me already?"

Harry slid his arms around him, pushing at him just a little with his hips. "Never. But I overheard one of my patients tell his wife when she caught him 'looking' at one of the Medi-witches that 'it doesn't matter where you get your appetite, as long as you eat at home'." When Severus opened his mouth to speak, Harry chortled, "And don't give me your dross, either. I know you like to eye a nice arse as much as the next chap." Severus started chuckling. Harry added, "Since I'm into hands and Potions masters, I think you're pretty safe, although I have no idea when we're going to sleep."

A determined look on his face, Severus replied, "Whenever we want. If Ben thinks he's going to dictate our small time together alone, he's sadly mistaken." He tightened his hold on Harry. "I suspect they have no concept of how little time we really get together since they get so much. I'll make certain Ben clearly understands that working on the house, among other things, takes a dim third on my priority list."

"Hmmm. Well, I think I know what number one is, but what's number two?"

"Dinner. Now let's finish this note so we can eat what they left us and then take care of number one."

"Hmmm. Not the order I had--" he squirmed away from the tickle to his ribs, "--but eating does sound 'appetizing' right now," he finished from a few feet away, his sparkling eyes warily watching Severus' hands.

With a snort, Severus continued:

"_The fragrant leis surrounding the bed are woven of maile, a vine that grows up in the mountains and is a traditional gift for newlyweds. Kahealani and Malia made them for you. (And, Severus, Joseph says maile has absolutely no potions value whatsoever, so just enjoy it!)_"

Severus chuckled. Ben knew him and his little habits better than he'd thought. "I wonder if Dobby included  
the suitcase they lent me this summer to pack up all the samples I collected."

Turning from his examination of the netting, Harry said reasonably, "Doesn't matter. If Dobby missed it, we can always send it on when we get back, or return it at Christmas."

"True. Let's see, where was I? Ah, yes--"

"_We'll bring breakfast tomorrow morning._"

Harry interrupted him. "Mmmm. I hope they bring some of that ahi. It's so much better than kippers for breakfast."

Severus made a face. "Ecch. Papaya would be nice, though."

"Eh, it's all right, but some fried rice now and that mango chutney--mmmm--it's good on the bread Malia makes."

Severus smiled. "Better than Marmite?"

"Much, although I do like Marmite, too."

"Eeyck," Severus said, shuddering. Harry's tastes in breakfast left much to be desired--that and they required a thorough oral scrubbing afterwards. He'd take his eggs and cheese and black pudding any day.

He continued reading:

"_Me ka halia aloha,_

"_Ben and Kalani Chan_"

Severus looked around the room for the Ti Ben mentioned. He finally spied them in the corners and on each side of the windows, well in the shadows. He walked over to one of them, Harry following. "Odd looking things, aren't they?" Harry commented, examining the tall potted plants.

"Hmmm, yes. Rather like thick feather dusters."

Harry was studying a yellow-and-green striped leaf. "Didn't know they came in this variety, though. The ones we hunted in the foothills were red and green, or just plain green; those were the ones we harvested."

"For the Kalua Pig?" When Harry nodded, Severus added, "Saw the leaves, never saw the plant. Good eating, though."

Harry's face lit up. "Oh! And speaking of eating--"

In six long strides his husband was in the open kitchen which, with the dining area in front of it, took up half of the rectangular space, while the living area (now occupied by the huge bed) took the other half. A simple plan for a small, simple house. A large bedroom suite and utility areas in the back half completed the layout, the whole of it surrounded by a deep lanai. And there was ample land to expand if they ever decided to move here permanently, something which held more appeal than he'd ever let on (although he suspected Harry knew, even if they'd never discussed it).

Maybe they should.

It felt odd standing in 'their' house; neither he nor Harry had ever really 'owned' anything before. Though its cost had seriously dented his Gringott's account, he considered it the best investment he'd ever made (save for the cost of the glyph, that is), for it ensured they had choices. They would never have to be residents in someone else's domicile, never again dependent on anyone else for their supper, so to speak. They had _prospects_.

Hogwarts might be where they resided, but it was not 'home' and never would be as long as the past dogged them. Home was supposed to be a place one could safely rest at the end of the day, the place where the only conflicts were those of one's own making. And while Albus had understood and tried to help make them a home by ridding him of his old solitary quarters with their old solitary memories, the rooms they shared were just that--rooms--and no matter how much or how long they occupied them, no matter how many good memories they contained, they still did not _belong_ to them.

But this house, and all it represented, did. Hana meant freedom, a new beginning with new friends they could earn themselves, on their own merits. It meant a home they could build themselves, in a life that could be all their own. It meant _sanctuary_, where they could safely be the people they should have been had not life and a madman intervened.

Hana had unlocked something within him, something he'd not even known he needed. Perhaps the very freshness of the place appealed to him, perhaps it was that he and Harry were accepted without prejudice. Or perhaps it was that here they'd finally been able to purge themselves of many of the awful memories still haunting them whenever they were back at Hogwarts. They slept well, they dreamt well, they loved well. Hana belonged only to them, and they belonged only to each other.

He could see them living here; their skills would be well used and appreciated by those around them. Making a home, surrounded by loved ones and a new family, _Ohana_ Ben called it, growing old here together in the warm sunshine, being a useful part of a close-knit community. Allowed to be himself if he wanted, maybe even silly at times if the mood struck him. To be Harry's mate without the hatred. To be his own man without the shackles of mistaken assumption. For Harry to stand proud based on his own positive accomplishments without the destructive labels attached to him. To them both.

Sorely tempting, indeed.

But he also knew, deep inside, that their ties to Hogwarts, and the Wizarding world as they'd left it, were as nearly strong as their love for each other, for it was where they'd been forged. He shook his head sadly. No, more than likely they would only be able to catch small bits of time in Hana, which would make this home all the more special and valuable as time progressed, for peace and tranquility and freedom were precious commodities to be savoured as often as possible.

He tried to visualise the future and found the only shining things he could see were Harry and Hana, the rest dark and dismal, full of the things he ran from in his dreams.

"Severus." Harry paused, noting the sudden furrow in the brow over the far-away glaze in his husband's eyes. "Severus, dinner is ready," he said as he laid out the simple dishes of chicken long-rice on the table. No, Severus was definitely not paying attention. He tried again, concerned about the continuing frown and the now sad look on his husband's face. "Severus, hurry up before your squid dies of asphyxiation." Still no response. This called for the heavy artillery. "Severus, if you don't hurry, you'll miss Albus masturbating on the table."

"Mmmm?" Severus blinked owlishly. "What about Albus?" While Harry just chuckled and shook his head, Severus walked over to him and wordlessly folded him in his arms, holding him tight as he sought the closeness and reassurance which could only be found in his husband's embrace.

Sensing his morose melancholy, Harry held him fast, not really caring if the food got cold or even worrying about what had brought this on. Whatever the reason, Severus needed him.

And nothing else mattered.

* * *

**28 October 2003 HST**

_.: Wake up, Ssseverusss, I want you. :._

Severus, finding himself half on his stomach, half under his husband, awoke languidly, stretching like a cat. His heart pounded in arousal as the familiar body behind him pressed close.

_.: I love your body all sssleep warm and loossse in the morning. :._

His lover's hands, one wrapped around his waist from underneath, held his body in place, while the other, slick with the scent of clover, pleasured him, the rhythm slow and deliberate, the movements those of someone who had all the time in the world. He leaned forward a bit, letting his lover do all the work, the Parseltongue sliding like silk through his senses, making him shiver. It was comforting, intimate and close.

_.: Oh, yesss, jussst like thisss. :._

Harry tangled their legs, trapping Severus' as he planted hot wet kisses to the sensitive skin of Severus' neck.

_.: I want to make you sssweat for me. I want to make you beg for me to finish. :._

The bond open, Severus took Harry's passion as his own. Softly, slowly it built, curling around them both. Breathing came faster, hearts sped up, a sheen of sweat slicking their bodies.

_.: Want to feel it build in you, through me, through you. :._

Severus gasped with the sensations.

_.: I love to feel you ssshuddering against me when we twine. :._

He was getting close, the pleasure coiling through him, tightening his muscles in anticipation.

_.: I'm getting clossse, Ssseverusss. Can you feel it? Oh ssso clossse. :._

"Oh, Merlin, Harry, finish it for gods sake!" Severus begged hoarsely.

Harry's chuckle rumbled along his spine.

_.: No, Ssseverusss, want to feel you ssshiver, feel you hang on the edge forever. :._

They were there, on the edge, muscles taut as they tumbled together.

_.: Through me, through you. Ahhhhhhh--Ssseverussss. :._

The pleasure rippled through him, over him, behind him, drawing low groans from them both. The two pleasures melded, continuing until he couldn't tell which was his and which was Harry's.

_.: It isss never better than thisss. :._

Harry was dead weight on his back, breathing laboured. A bit light-headed, Severus muttered the cleaning spells with what breath he could muster and then gave a little heave. When that failed to move his husband, he sent him an image of blue balls, hoping he would take the hint. He did. With a murmured apology, Harry flopped heavily on the bed. Taking a deep breath and then another, the dizziness passing quickly, Severus turned over to face his sated husband, his head resting on his hand as his elbow sank into the mattress.

Harry opened his eyes, staring at him, his expression loose and relaxed. "Ah, that was a bit of all right," he said, yawning.

"And good morning to you, too," Severus teased, his fingers trailing lightly across Harry's stomach and hip, his mouth dipping down to take Harry's in a nipping kiss.

Harry sighed when Severus moved to chase his lips down his neck. "I love twining with you in the morning."

Brow raised, Severus pulled back to look at him as he asked, "_Twining_?"

Harry looked blank for a moment, then flushed. "Ah, sorry. I'm still thinking in Parseltongue. You know, snake sex--_.:twining:._ means mating."

Chuckling, Severus rolled on his back and held out his arms. Harry needed no coaxing to scoot close to Severus' side and snuggle into 'his' spot. As their arms folded around each other and their legs tangled, Severus said drowsily, "Now _this_ is 'twining'."

Harry spoke into his chest, "Actually, this is when we would be trying to eat each other."

"I'm not sure I could quicken again that quickly," Severus remarked dryly.

"Severus!" Harry laughed.

"Ah, you mean our _other_ snake."

"You're hopeless."

"Only with you."

And Harry knew that was probably closer to the truth than Severus had intended. "I wonder what time it is?"

Severus yawned. "Not time to get up."

"Ah, more sleep. I rather like that idea."

Drawing his mate closer, Severus savoured the contented sigh that followed the tender kiss he bestowed on Harry's forehead, so much like the ones he'd got last night when they'd finally settled down to sleep.

Replete with the good food Ben and Kalani had left them, the exhaustion held at bay throughout the full day had caught up with them. While it might have been nice to christen the new bed, they'd barely had the energy to help each other out of their clothes and (after some humourous wrestling with the netting) crawl under the light covers. Snuggling close, the bond sated in other ways, they'd easily fallen asleep.

And thinking on it now, he realised there was more to it than he'd ever really noticed, just more things to love about Harry. While the banter and innuendo between them let him know his lover thought of him and desired him, there was never any pressure to actually do any of it. And whether they did, or did not, it was always 'intimate', always mutual, even more so now with their marriage. He wondered if Harry felt any lack--

"You worry too much, love," Harry murmured. "You have your side of the bed, I have mine, but we always find our way to the middle. I love you. Go to sleep."

Severus sighed and felt Harry kiss his chest, his arm tightening around him. In the middle, indeed. He closed his eyes and settled into the downy comfort of the bed, feeling Harry's body sagging heavily into his in slow degrees. By the time his husband's light snores gently stirred the hairs on his chest, he slept.

* * *

Harry dreamt he was up on the roof, kneeling naked next to an equally unclothed Severus, as they placed shingles over the new plywood sheathing in the hot sun. Tap, tap, tap went his hammer while he could dimly hear Severus telling him he needed to hit the nails harder if he wanted them to get up.

"Like this--" he demonstrated, swinging the hammer hard. Bam, bam, bam.

"Get up you two, the day is wasting away!"

Wasting away? It looked pretty strong to him.

Bam, bam, BAM!

"Harry! Severus!"

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"HAR-RY!" one voice shouted.

He heard a low growl. "I'm go-ing to kill them."

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"SE-VER-US!" another voice yelled.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The last remnant of the dream faded just as he was getting to the good part. "I'll help," Harry groused, burying his head under the covers.

"GO AWAY YOU MISERABLE EXCUSES FOR FRIENDS!"

He heard laughter and Ben saying something about just going in to get them with Kalani protesting, asking what if they were--you know? There was a bark of laughter and then more banging on the door. "BREAKFAST IS ON THE LANAI! FRESH CAUGHT THIS MORNING JUST FOR YO-OU!"

Harry lifted his head with new interest, his stomach growling. "Maybe we can kill them later?"

"HURRY, BEFORE IT GETS CO-OLD!"

Severus threw back the covers and, after untangling himself from their jumble, bounced out of the bed, He rummaged in his bag, jerked on a pair of shorts and stormed to the door. Throwing it open, he called, "What the hell do you two arseholes think--" He disappeared from view, then came back in, leaving the door open as he muttered, "Bloody cowards! Wake us up from a sound sleep and then run away. When I get my hands on--"

The dark blue vest half-over his head muffling his voice, Harry said, "Easy, Severus. You can only harm them _after_ we've eaten. I'm starved."

Obviously Severus found the temptation too great, for when Harry's arms were completely tangled in the soft cotton over his head, Severus attacked his exposed ribs with relish. Harry tried futilely to drop his arms and succeeded only in protecting his armpits with his elbows. Certainly not his lover's target. Down to the floor they tumbled, Severus on top, merciless in his tickles until Harry howled into the shirt.

About the time he thought he would die from it, the tormenting hands gentled, caressing his skin, while a wet mouth licked and kissed and nibbled their way in a random path down his body. Arms stuck over his head, still trapped by the fabric, Harry forgot all about breakfast as his shorts sailed off somewhere south while Severus concentrated fully on a more urgent repast.

Much later, at a set table on the lanai, Severus stared at his husband in fascinated horror as he--ate. Harry would eye each bite, then his pink tongue would curl out and up, holding the fork while his lips would close, delicately pulling each morsel off of the fork. His eyes closing in ecstasy, he would make such decadent noises Severus could feel himself twitch with each groan. Then that tongue would dart out to lick the thick sauce off tempting lips and, feeling his own face follow the motion, Severus would find himself closing his mouth with a snap.

But it was fish. For breakfast. Disgusting, no matter how good it smelled; his own simple meal of papaya and fried rice (with delectable bits of spicy sausage and eggs), while delicious, could not hope to pull such a response out of him. Finally, he'd had enough. "Harry," he ventured quietly, "could you _please_ keep it down? _Some_ of us are trying to eat."

"Mmmmm?" Harry swallowed; even that was distracting. Brow raised wickedly, Harry asked, "What? Am I--disturbing--you?"

"Not necessarily," he hedged, "it's just--noisy."

"Ah, I see," Harry said, a smile in his voice. "So the crunching of my scrambled eggs and grilled fish is too loud?"

"You _know_ what I mean," Severus complained, his argument thin.

"Mmmm hmmm," Harry commented, eating another bite, his eyes watching Severus follow the movements of his fork. "Sorry, Sev," he said, the little brat not the least bit contrite. In fact, Severus was beginning to suspect he was doing it on purpose.

Shaking his head, Severus commented, "I truly don't see the appeal. I mean, I like fish with lunch, or dinner--but first thing in the morning? Don't you ever crave something sweet?"

Harry laughed. "I've already had something 'sweet' this morning, if you'll recall." When Severus snorted, Harry continued, forking up another bite of the fish with its dark brown, shiny glaze. "Don't much like sweet things--except maybe chocolate and this teryaki sauce Kalani makes. I don't know. I like fish. Anytime I can get it, especially if it's really fresh--like this ahi." He took another bite, chewing slowly. "Even as a kid, though I rarely got more than the bony bits. Never had kippers till I went to Hogwarts, and Aunt Petunia would never have given me any even if she _had_ spared the expense."

Well, that certainly explained a few things about both Harry's tastes and his always neat, almost furtive way of eating.

"C'mon, Sev, try it. It's the tuna you like so much," Harry wheedled, holding out a bite.

"No, thank you," Severus said with feigned distaste.

"Just one little bite? I promise, I brought lots of your cleansing potion."

Severus eyed the tempting morsel. "Very well," he murmured, taking the bite off the fork Harry proffered. A myriad of tastes exploded on his tongue, first the sweet glaze and then the soft, moist texture of the mild, perfectly done ahi with just a hint of smoke from the grill. It was all he could do to keep from groaning himself.

"Well?"

Severus schooled his face to indifference. "It's passable."

Brow raised in disbelief, Harry muttered, "Ri-ight."

They ate in silence, but Severus' eyes kept straying to the generous helping of ahi remaining on Harry's plate. He ignored Harry noticing his glances. When his lover bent over to retrieve the napkin that blew off his lap in the soft breeze, Severus reached over the table and speared another bite of Harry's fish, putting it in his mouth before his husband straightened. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry's small smirk when he noticed the missing bite.

Severus had managed to steal the fourth piece when Harry suddenly chortled. "Hey! I thought you didn't like fish with breakfast."

Sniffing, he replied, "I don't. I'm merely gathering empirical data."

"Ah," Harry retorted, cutting the remainder of his portion in half and sliding it onto to Severus' plate. "And does your data collection include eating most of my breakfast? Here, we can share."

Before Severus could respond to his husband's devilish grin, a heavily laden owl flew unsteadily over the lanai railing to drop a rolled newspaper in the middle of the table. With a small screech, the bird flew away without stopping for a treat. Which was just as well as the end of the roll had tipped over Severus' guava juice, sending thick runnels of the pink liquid down the wooden surface onto his lap. While he plied his wand to clean up the mess (muttering about the different ways there were to serve roasted owl) Harry unrolled the paper. Once unfurled, his eyes widened as he scanned the front page.

"It's from Albus." Laughing, Harry held the paper up for Severus to see the bold headlines:

**Mayhem at the Snape-Potter Reception**  
**Best Party of the Century**

Severus started chuckling, his eyes fixed on the moving photograph near the top under the headline. Pointing his fork at the paper, he asked, "What's the caption on the picture?"

Harry turned it back around and read, "Wethinks they protest too much!"

"Hmmm, I suppose they did, although I'm positive Fudge was about as lucid as he ever is," Severus commented dryly.

Harry twisted in his seat and tossed the paper over to a wooden bench behind and to the side of him and, turning back to the table, began to finish his breakfast in earnest. Severus followed suit and, in no time, they'd polished their plates clean. Harry burped contentedly, his hand on his stomach. "Hate to rush good food like that, but I want to see the paper without teryaki all over it."

"Indeed," Severus agreed, putting his napkin down.

Rising from his chair, he picked the paper off of the bench and sat down to read. He'd no more gone through a cycle of the photo (which he privately had to admit was one of Colin's best) when Harry, standing in front of him, blocked his light. "Eh, budge up, I want to see, too."

Not looking up at him, Severus purposely gave him just another inch, secretly smiling as Harry wiggled his way into the tiny space he'd left between his hip and the arm of the bench. "Good thing we like each other, or else..." Harry chuckled, taking one side of the paper. "Move your arm, it's in my way."

Severus obliged by settling the offending appendage behind his husband, the hand sliding into Harry's hair, playing with the messier-than-usual strands, while he held the other side of the paper. When Harry pressed close, they both sighed and gave the photo the attention it deserved.

When Sprout had outlined what she'd wanted to do to Iacio and Fudge, they'd become her willing accomplices in less time than it had taken to make 'the plan'. So when Pomona and Minerva had gone off to hunt up Colin, Harry and Severus had discussed the best way to make the distraction the two women needed for the photographer to do his work. It had been Harry who'd suggested that Severus do as he'd threatened months before (when they'd discussed Fudge's invitation to the wedding). It had taken very little persuasion afterwards to talk him into actually doing it.

So they'd made their way quietly over to the two unsuspecting hypocrites, both of them guilty in their own inimical fashions, of making Severus and Harry's lives miserable at one time or another. Fudge they despised, in general and for differing reasons, but Iacio? Their mutual loathing was deep and personal.

When Minerva had signalled their readiness, Harry had grabbed Severus around the waist and with loud, seemingly drunken voices they'd staggered into their prey's field of vision. When they had the two men's undivided attention (as well as a host of guests nearby) Harry had taken Severus' face in his hands and kissed him, all the while backing them towards their quarry.

It had only taken Severus a moment to forget about the crowd and to really get into the kiss, a sloppy, open mouthed affair with wet tongues flashing and stabbing. In the back of his mind he knew he should be mortified at this undignified display, but he'd also known that the end result of their charade should erase any such silliness from the guest's memories. Besides, they wouldn't be around long enough to hear the inevitable comments in any event.

And then they'd been right in front of the two hated faces, their almost identical expressions of horror and disgust too precious to miss because, for once, they'd earned them. Two steps later they'd bowled into them, the four bodies falling into a tangled pile on the marble floor. Harry and Severus had hurriedly rolled off and away just as the flashbulbs had gone off rapidly, one after another, as Colin emptied a roll. While thus distracted, only the Aurors and one of the matrons in the crowd had noticed them sneaking off onto the balcony outside.

And now, sitting quietly together, the morning warm and fine, they reaped the results. This glorious photo on the front page of the Daily Prophet with Dumbledore's hand-written comment "Well done!" below it. Their mutual chuckles rumbled against each other as they watched it cycle over and over.

Severus and Harry were nowhere in the photo; Colin had done his editing well, as promised. Severus felt the laugh bubble up in his chest as he noted Fudge's robes hiked up to his thighs. Iacio had fallen on top of Fudge, his body wedged uncomfortably between Fudge's bony knees. As Iacio tried to wriggle free, scrabbling to get up, his hands, gripping Fudge's upper thighs, slipped and as he fell back down onto the former minister, his hands slid far under Fudge's robes. His eyes popping open in what could either be construed as shock or delight, the bottom man grimaced (whether in pain or ecstasy or mortification was open to interpretation), his arms flinging around the man on top and, instead of steadying him, (which had surely been his intent) he inadvertently caused Iacio's torso and head to flop down on him as if they were kissing. Then the picture cycled again.

Laughing hard, Harry said, "Oh, look! There in the background--isn't that Sprout and McGonagall?"

"Yes, and I believe the smirking 'gentleman' behind them is Albus." Severus snorted.

Harry mused, "You know, with what I know now, I'm glad Sprout's on our side."

Severus smirked. "What makes you think she's on 'your side'? Especially considering all the pranks you endured from the staff in your sixth and seventh years."

"I remember, but she didn't do any."

Severus chuckled. "I'm sure she stayed well away, but they were _all_ Pomona's doing. She got the notion after you and Ron turned Draco into a skunk. When you added the scent, Filius didn't know whether to praise you for ingenuity or smack you for adapting a _Schema_ he'd taught you, although it got a good laugh in the staff room. Regardless, she compared the number of tricks you'd got up to in years previous to your passiveness at the time and concluded you were too isolated from any fun. So she became your self-appointed 'normalcy guardian'."

"Really? That was very nice of her, but I thought McGonagall and Albus--."

"Oh, they might have executed some of them, but Minerva with the frog, Irma with the disappearing textbooks, even Albus with the short sheets, and Filius with the jerking quill--those were all Pomona's ideas."

"Wow. I'm impressed--no wonder Fred and George liked her so much." He glanced slyly at Severus. "Did you ever pull any on me?"

Feeling a bit smug, Severus said, "Only one--the snoring pillow."

"You're joking; I thought that was Justin--" Harry blushed furiously. "But how--that means--you--us--saw--?"

Severus kissed him on the cheek. "Well, I am Slytherin, you know. First rule is 'always make it look like someone else did it'."

"And sneaky. You forgot sneaky."

"Indeed." He turned back to the paper, tapping an article under the headline. "I think, though, you earned that epithet last night."

Chuckling, Harry read the headline: "**Malfoy Hanky Panky?**" He commented, skimming the article, "Perhaps, but it was your idea."

Severus conceded, "True, but the opportunity, when it presented itself, was too simple and too good to pass up."

"And bloody brilliant! Making you look like Lucius with that disguising spell and then attacking the 'groom'?" He started laughing. "Oh, the looks on their faces when you'd grab me; the kisses were good, though. Do you remember that one woman? Mrs. Abercrombie? When she hit you with her purse, telling you to let me go?"

"Damned thing had a brick in it, I swear," Severus said, rotating his shoulder in reflex. Changing his voice to a light tenor, he continued, "'Oh, Mr. Malfoy! Stop! Unhand me! I'm a happily married man!'" Severus snorted, "You laid it on so thick, I thought for sure they knew we were shamming."

"Me? What about you? 'Oh, Harry, my love, I just can't wait one second more--I have to have you! When are you going to dump the old bastard? Say yes--I have a cozy little nest all ready for you.'"

He smiled. "I admit, the knowing smirks whenever you replied, 'Oh Lucius, you bad boy! Can't you wait?' were a bit hard to take, although there were those who were ready to pummel me in any event. Lucius is _not_ as popular as he thinks."

"Yeah, but they didn't and with the Aurors Ron sent over to keep it sane, it was fun _and_ Lucius will have some serious explaining to do for quite a while, I suspect. I was surprised, though, that Albus, Molly, and Arthur got involved by steering the Malfoys away every time they came close to catching us."

"What, and deprive themselves of a little malicious payback with no personal consequences? Albus probably put them up to it; our little game would have been over too soon had there been two Lucius' there at the same time." His face grew serious. "I just hope we didn't cause Bethany any distress."

Harry glanced at him a moment and slowly said, "I don't think he will harm her; I saw no signs of abuse when we met them. If anything, I think she loves him and knows full well how to 'handle' him."

Severus smiled a little. "I suspect you're right; Lucius _can_ be quite charming if he chooses--as long as he's not crossed. She's a brave little thing, has been ever since she was a child when I first met her." He could feel Harry's curiosity. "Voldemort ordered me, among others, to cure his favourite's daughter; the potion I gave her was virulent but effective." He hesitated. "Remus and I met her when we were escaping; she risked herself to pay what she saw as a life debt and healed us as best she could."

Harry nodded. "I wondered about the look that passed between the two of you, but you were as closed as a clam at the time." He paused. "I'd be more worried about Draco and his fiancée--what's her name? Eunice?"

"Yes, and I am. I managed to speak to Poppy before we left. She and Minerva will 'talk' with her while I'm gone. There's not a lot we can do, except ensure the other students leave her alone, but I don't foresee any difficulties on that score--to their minds, she's made a fantastic match."

Harry stiffened next to him. "With Draco? He hates women. He'll kill her, eventually."

Severus shook his head, his hand smoothing the tenseness out of Harry's neck. "Perhaps--the rumours were flying last night about Draco's latest indiscretions. Regardless, the contract cannot be undone and, as long as Draco doesn't harm or molest her before the wedding, no one will object to the union. With this type of arranged marriage, what he does afterwards, short of murder, is considered his own affair. Abuse or no, she'll belong to him; one can only hope Minerva, Poppy, and perhaps Bethany can make her situation easier for her. Unfortunately the girl's mother raised her 'proper'; she has none of Bethany's cunning or courage."

They sat in silence, each lost in their own sober thoughts. Eyes closed, Harry settled into Severus' side, leaning his head against Severus' as his husband stroked his hair with one hand, the other covering Harry's restive hand on his thigh.

Which was how Ben and Kalani found them a little while later.

* * *

TBC

* * *

HST: Hawaii Standard Time (Hawaii does not observe daylight savings time.)


	37. Part III : Uncharted Waters

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Thirty Seven : Uncharted Waters**

**Monday 27 October 2003 HST** (Continued)

Ben _almost_ felt guilty about waking Severus and Harry this morning, but the overseas Owl late last night from Aunt Poppy had been quite specific. She was worried about them--their lack of sleep and steady sustenance being top on her list.

When they'd blessed the house yesterday, Malia had suggested they tie the wards around it to their own so they could monitor for intruders when Harry and Severus were away; Ben thought this a good idea since they couldn't exactly hide the house or _Obliviate_ the whole community. From the stirring of the wards around the Snape-Potter home, he knew their two friends had arrived a little after three in the afternoon; with the time in Hana twelve hours behind Scotland and assuming they would have been exhausted, he'd been concerned they wouldn't bother to eat.

So fifteen hours after their arrival, with no word from their two friends, Ben and Kalani reckoned they'd fulfilled list item number one and they set off to rectify item number two--namely breakfast. Buying the fish from Kimo, fresh off his brother's tuna boat, had been quick; grilling them had taken the work of a few minutes since they, like Harry, wanted them really moist. While Kalani had manned the old rusty Weber, Ben had made the fried rice in a cast iron skillet seasoned years ago by his mother; as it browned, he scrambled the eggs, then cleaned the papaya he'd cut earlier from the trees in their backyard. The coffee finished dripping about the time the tea kettle went off and Kalani, bringing in the mouth-watering fish off of the lanai, set it down to assemble the baskets--one for them, one for their friends.

After delivering the meal and making enough noise to wake the dead, Ben and Kalani had sprinted away, jumping off the lanai like two naughty boys ringing the neighbor's doorbell. They settled off to the side of the house, where they spread a blanket overlooking the ocean and set out their own meal. Kalani had wanted to wait until Severus cooled down and go back to eat with them, but laughing, Ben had reminded him of their own honeymoon. Blushing, Kalani allowed they might not want to eat 'breakfast' first and tucked into his eggs without further argument. When finished, he packed all of the breakfast debris back into the basket, saying he going back to the shop to get the roofing materials and tools ready for transport. Ben kissed him, knowing the trip was just an excuse; Kalani was, as usual, giving him his early morning thinking time. He watched until Kalani disappeared from sight and sighed, wondering how he'd ever got so lucky.

Listening to Harry and Severus' chuckles and quiet conversation from the lanai, Ben thought on the remainder of Poppy's letter. Aunty had intimated (although she'd been exceptionally lacking in details) that some 'things' had happened before and after the wedding. Things that might have changed Harry and diminished Severus.

Ben knew more about diminishing than he ever cared to know, and, intimately, what it could do to a person. Ever since the fishing accident in July, with his now imperfect magic, Kalani had fallen back on his Muggle skills as a carpenter, which was how he'd always made his living when not working at the hotel. While he slowly learned how to 'borrow' new magical skills from their 'sharing', Kalani's labour had become his salvation as he'd thrown himself into it, the resulting work exquisite as if he was using one to compensate for his loss of the other. And Ben encouraged him; it was a positive outlet for Kalani's continuing frustrations.

His husband's most recent project had been 'the bed'. Kalani had gone deep into the mountains to harvest the wood, Ben and some neighbors helping him bring the raw timber to his workshop. Because of the small time available between the Banns and the Bonding, they'd trolled through Joseph's library until they found a spell (which Ben helped Kalani cast) to season the wood. Over the remaining few weeks, Kalani had cut, planed, turned, assembled, and finished the whole thing by hand. Malia and Kahealani had sewn the netting to keep the insects out; Ben and Kalani had hung it.

They'd all traveled to Kihei (Malia driving) for the mattresses and bedding; their ancient truck, rarely used and held together by a thread and a spell, barely made it back on the road to Hana laden as it was. When the bed was finished, even Ben had been stunned by its beauty. Running his hands over the fine koa wood the first time, he could feel the love imbued into its very fiber from all of them. Certainly it was a bed where no bad dreams would ever dare enter.

When he could hear no more voices, he figured it might be time for him to make an appearance. He checked his watch; yep, it had been almost an hour and a half since they'd left the food. Standing, he shook and folded the blanket, brushing the sand blown up from the beach off of his shorts. He pushed the blanket through the rails onto the lanai and, walking softly, peeked around the corner of the house to spy Severus and Harry sitting quietly on the bench up against the wall. He was about to call out when a hand fell on his shoulder. Jumping, he squelched a yelp when he whipped around to see Kalani grinning at him, a pile of tools at his feet.

"Gotcha," Kalani chortled, kissing him. "Thought for sure you'd heard me clinking my way over here."

"Why you--" Ben muttered, kissing him back, his heart still pounding.

"Ten points from whatever misbegotten house spawned you for snogging in the--garden." Ben looked over to see Severus standing with his arms folded severely over his chest, his mock glare belied by a small smile. "And another ten for your cowardly evasion of the detention I was going to give you earlier for disturbing our well-earned slumber."

"Don't we _get_ points for breakfast?" Kalani whined playfully.

"I never give points," Severus said haughtily, his nose in the air.

"Except to his Slytherins," Harry said, coming over to stand in front of them, "which means further begging from _us_ is pointless." He jumped off the lanai at the broken rail and reached for both men at once, unashamedly hugging them. Ben looked over Harry's shoulder at Severus and smiled knowing the taciturn man would never be so open, but he didn't mind--that Severus smiled was affection enough.

He pulled away and called out, laughter in his voice. "So, Severus, what was our detention? Cleaning the cauldrons? Packing the storeroom? Fixing the roof?"

Severus blinked, an evil smirk creeping up his lips. "Cleaning the girl's loo--with a toothbrush."

While Ben laughed, he could hear Kalani ask Harry, "Lu?" When he got Harry's snickering reply, Kalani looked wildly over at Severus, saying, "Ewwww. That's just nasty."

Ben climbed up on the lanai to stand next to Severus, placing his hand on his shoulder. To his surprise, Severus did the same, saying quietly, "It's good to see you, Ben. I had planned on spending time with you both before the wedding, but I--" he hesitated "--got side-tracked."

Ben nodded. "It's OK. I wasn't much concerned knowing we had this week together." He looked over at Kalani and Harry in avid conversation. "It's good to see them so easy with each other again." He turned his head back to his friend. "Kalani's so shy, although you'd never know it to look at him; it's--unusual--to see him so animated outside of family."

Severus nodded, paying attention for a moment to the two younger men. "Harry's much the same way. I take it Kalani has had--difficulties--adjusting?"

"You could say that. In fact, I was wondering if I could steal you sometime this week for a small while. Thought you might like to go riding and I wanted to talk to you about something without Kalani around 'listening in' so to speak. I know Harry's not too keen on the horses and thought maybe he might prefer keeping Kalani company in the shop."

Severus studied him a moment. "Tomorrow would be best, perhaps. Once we get started on the roof, I don't want to stop until we get it done."

"That works. My friends won't be available to help us lay the sheathing until Wednesday in any event."

Severus eyed the lanai. "That reminds me--I've been thinking of adding to the house. Which would be better? Up or out?"

Ben mulled it over. "It would have to be 'out'. This close to the beach there are land-use ordinances limiting height so one doesn't ruin the 'view plane' of the people living behind you."

"An upstairs would disturb the neighbors?" Severus asked curiously.

"Might. I'll ask Gary tomorrow morning--he's on the planning board." He eyed Severus dubiously. "Surely you're not planning on doing that while you're here, are you?"

"I'd thought so. I realise you said we needed to limit the amount of magic we do, but I'd thought we could at least add a small suite one night. We've been thinking about inviting Albus and Poppy out here at the end of the week, and the house is too small for visitors. Albus hasn't been--well--and Harry thought the sunshine might cheer him up."

"It might. Aunty's been giving us updates about his 'condition'. Doesn't sound too promising, though." He paused, thinking on it. "You know, they could stay with Malia. She and Joseph have plenty of room." When Severus shook his head and shot a glance at his husband, Ben suddenly understood. "How's Harry holding up? Must be rough on him."

Ben could see Severus formulating--and discarding--several replies before he finally settled on, "It's been hard on both of them." He turned his gaze fully to Harry as he murmured, "Time away from Hogwarts would be beneficial if only to heal some recent hurts between them--beyond Albus' illness." Returning his serious regard to Ben, he asked, "So is it possible?"

"Well, we'll need to rearrange some things, but sure, we can do it," he replied with a grin. "I'd assumed we would spend today cleaning up the house and planting the garden--" He stopped at Severus' raised brow. "Or not," he finished, chuckling. "Want a honeymoon, do you?"

Amused by the twitching of Severus' mouth, Ben continued, "Can we at least get the roofing materials over here today? If we shrink them, it shouldn't take too long to bring them over. Oh, and get your house habitable? You wouldn't believe what we banished when we cleaned yesterday--definitely not 'things' you'd want creeping in the sheets."

As they turned to join Kalani and Harry, Severus replied dryly, "You'd be surprised what I've found creeping in my sheets over the years." When Ben snickered wickedly; Severus rolled his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh. "I _do_ live in a dungeon, you know."

Kalani looked up quizzically when Ben shuddered, saying, "Let's not go there, OK? Suddenly our little centipedes look downright friendly."

"Oh, did you tell him about the red one we found yesterday? Ho--that mother was this big," Kalani said, holding out his fingers about eight inches apart. "As big around as my thumb."

"A red centipede?" Severus asked excitedly as they started walking to the Chan's home. "You have many around here?"

"Yeah, and the blue ones, too. Now those _hurt_." When Severus stopped and stared, Kalani asked innocently, "What? You need them?"

Severus shook his head, obviously tempering his first response when he bit his lip. "Yes, centipedes of any kind have uses. The large ones are very expensive, though, and they die in our cold, so I don't keep much stock."

Ben cleared his throat. "Do you need them dead or alive?"

"Both if I can get them." Ben could hear Harry chuckling--over Severus' eagerness he assumed.

Kalani laughed. "No problem. Aunty's always on me to come over and take them out of her garden--they like to hide in the wet soil under the lettuce. Might be hard to catch them live, though--they're fast buggahs." They reached the road and, after waiting for a few tourists to stop gawking, crossed. Walking backwards on the smooth shoulder, Kalani looked sheepish as he asked, "Eh, Severus? Is it OK if they don't have their heads?"

Eyes narrowed in confusion, Severus asked, "And why would they have no heads?"

Kalani grinned. "Oh, usually you scoop and flip them on a shovel and then smack their heads with a hammer or a rock. Bit messy, but it works every time." When Harry scrunched up his face in disgust, Kalani laughed. "So? Is this a problem?"

Severus sighed, shaking his head. "No, I think I can live without heads."

Ben hid his smile when Harry muttered, "_I_ can't."

And the morning was fine with Kalani's burst of laughter.

* * *

After they'd cleaned up from the morning's exertions transferring the roofing materials to the back lanai, Severus and Harry had climbed into the bed (now properly placed in the bedroom) to rest during the day's worst heat. Severus couldn't help but notice the 'looks' Harry kept sending his way. Looks he knew well. Harry had something on his mind, something he was deeply afraid would upset him--usually with good reason. However, that never stopped Harry from asking.

"Severus?" Harry asked carefully, half laying on him, his fingertips running down Severus' side to play with the hairs by his knee.

It really wasn't fair, Severus thought. Harry's hands felt so good, but his voice felt so bad. Alerted more by the clear picture sailing into his head than the tone, Severus lifted his head to stare at him. He plopped it back down on the pillow. Oh good gads, they were going to go through _this_ again. He should have expected it.

Harry pulled away, startled at his lover's reaction. "What?" he asked with some asperity.

Severus rolled over to face him. "You're sending 'graphic' images."

Reddening slightly, Harry said, "Oh. But you know, I was thinking--"

"--Always a dangerous thing for a Gryffindor to do--" Severus muttered.

"--Severus! Behave. This is important."

"Very well. What were you thinking?"

"Hmmm. Well, if we can feel each other's pleasure and pain--"

"Yes--"

"And pleasure can override pain--"

"Ummm hmmm. Go on--"

"Do you think the bond would make it possible for us to get past our previous 'problems' to, um, you know?"

This was certainly uncharted waters around a familiar island; question was, did he want to wade into it? "I have to admit, you may have a point," Severus said cautiously, thinking maybe he could talk Harry out of it. "But is it even worth it to try?"

"Well, if you don't want to--"

Severus stopped him with a hand on his mouth. "Harry, I have already enjoyed the admittedly extreme pleasure of topping with you. However, if you'll recall, the issues or 'problems', as you say, were not ones of physical pain or pleasure, but of memory and fear. Given that you had a nightmare as recently as last week about this very thing, are you truly ready _now_ to overcome the emotional response you had the last time we tried?"

When Harry stared at him, his face flushing, Severus realised what he was _really_ asking. "Of course, a case could be made that you have not yet had the--opportunity--to experience that particular pleasure--"

Harry nodded, his face showing his hesitancy. "It _is_ an awful lot to ask of you. It's just that--"

Severus sat up, holding up his hand. He needed to think. Why did Harry worry this issue like a dog with an old mouldy bone? And why now? Surely he knew, with all they'd been through and their bonds, that he loved him, but that he had _issues_ with having sex this way. He didn't _want_ to bottom anymore than Harry did.

"Maybe this is a bad idea--"

"Hush, I'm just thinking," Severus said more harshly than he intended, but _if_ it could buy him some quiet to think past the rising irritation, he wasn't quite sure he regretted the tone. "We already know your issues, I'm just considering my own."

When Harry nodded slightly, staying still, Severus made himself calm down and look at it rationally. It was true the only things, at least that he knew of, preventing Harry from topping were the pain penetration brought (although he normally felt nothing after a while), not to mention a real problem he had with domination. In fact, 'just thinking' about it sent a cold frisson of near panic down his spine; he didn't know why he felt this way--it was just something he normally avoided. But he did know the prohibition was so deep and profound he was unsure if the bond, filled with Harry's love and passion for him, could overcome those problems to make it a pleasurable experience for them both. The real question was whether he was willing to risk it.

He climbed out the bed, needing to pace. Vaguely he heard, "Severus, if you want, we can just forget ab--", cut off as he slashed his hand down through the air demanding quiet. He heard Harry's restless rustling behind him, but he didn't feel the need to comfort him for his abruptness; it was a little late for Harry to retract it now.

Did he want to? No. Would the bond would make a difference? No, he didn't think so--it might make it more pleasant, but he couldn't see where it would override the rest of the flotsam that went with it. Would he do it anyway, for Harry? The mere thought made him queasy. Would Harry understand if he said no? Only one way to find out.

"No."

"Pardon?"

Well, maybe it was a bit blunt. "No, I do not want to bottom." Wonderful--that was _so_ much better.

"Why not?"

Severus sighed. There was that old bone again--he was quite sure the question slipped out with little to no thought. Patience--he needed to be patient. "Does it matter? You asked my opinion and I have given it." He stole a glance at Harry, hoping--no, still not satisfied. "This seems very simple to me. We made a mutual agreement about our sexual preferences, namely penetrative sex. We both agreed we had deep-seated 'issues' with it. We both agreed not to engage in that particular venue of sex out of respect for ourselves and each other. You have raised the question about the bond's role in our decision; a valid question to which I have given a valid answer."

"I don't understand. Why would you think this?"

Knowing how single-minded Harry could be when he'd sunk his teeth into something, Severus held onto his temper as he explained stiffly, "I concede that one facet of the bond does and has enhanced our physical relationship, one which has, to this point, brought mutual satisfaction; however, I do not believe the bond will make any difference in this respect because it is not a physical abhorrence we are both facing, rather it is an emotional one caused by problems and circumstances _outside_ ourselves. With this in mind, you still asked the question, and I have given my answer--no. What is there not to understand?"

But Harry pressed on. "What makes you afraid to try it?"

Damned bond! No, he shouldn't say that--so far it had brought him nothing but pleasure and a sense of belonging he desperately needed. But he hadn't known it would let Harry strike so close to home in reading him. Especially on this issue, now, when he didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to remember what he'd tried to forget, didn't want to drag into the light those very things he was ashamed to see, things he didn't want Harry to see lest he think less of--

"Look, Severus. All I want is a straight answer; why are you being so secretive about this? Why can't you tell me?"

"I am _not_," Severus replied defensively, "being secretive. But I do have a right to my privacy, even from you. You used to know that. How could you have forgot so soon?"

"It's _not_ an issue of privacy if it affects me, too."

"How the hell does this affect you, other than you can't bugger me?"

"Well, we're arguing for one thing, with you over there and me over here, instead of christening this bed the way we should be," Harry said with a sad smile. He was not going to be redirected nor distracted from his decision. He turned away to pace again. Harry called after him, "And it's not about the sex anymore, Severus. It's about honesty and being open with each other."

"Honesty? I have given you honesty. I said no! To have said 'Yes, Harry, I would _love_ for you to fuck me!' would have been the lie."

But the stubborn prat obviously wasn't going to be side-tracked either. "No, you haven't been _completely_ honest. You've told me nothing I haven't already figured out for myself. I deserve an explanation about those things affecting our relationship to each other that I _don't_ understand."

He'd had it. It was far too late to stem the growing anger as he shouted, "You don't need to understand everything! You don't need to know every sordid detail, damn it! All that is necessary is to accept _me_--As I Am. Sometimes that is _all_ I can offer." Gods, why did this hurt so much?

"I do accept you as you are," Harry retorted, his voice rising.

"Oh, really? And you show this how? By badgering me for a response to a question I've already told you I can't answer? _This_ is your idea of acceptance?"

"I do not question _who_ you are. I accept _you_ fully. I am questioning _what_ you are saying, or not saying. I do not accept your keeping me ignorant of things that are important to you--to us."

"Ignorant? I have told you more of my sorry life than I have to--to anyone. I have _bared_ my self, my _soul_ to you. You want more?"

"No, you haven't. I can _feel_ you hiding something. I can sense it. Something _I_ need to know to understand _you_ better. If I don't _know_ it, how can I avoid making mistakes with you? Gods, Severus, I don't want to hurt you--if you don't tell me the things that hurt you, then I always will and I won't find out I've done so until it's too late, and the damage is already done. I don't want that."

Harry crawled off the bed, his intent clear. Severus couldn't--he was too raw--the emotions sizzling through him would only burn Harry if he touched him right now. He walked out of the bedroom into the living room, trying to get space between them. Harry stopped in the doorway, slumping against the frame. Quietly, he said, "I thought we were supposed to share all the aspects of our lives, both the past and the present. I've shared everything with you, told you everything. Why can't I expect the same in return?"

White hot, the anger flowed through him. How dare he brag about _his_ openness, _his_ honesty. "Like you told me about your schooling? About your mastery? Oh yes, my love, you were _so_ open and forthcoming. So _honest_."

Harry flushed, whether in embarrassment or anger Severus cared not. "That was then; we're talking about now." And how typical was that?

"No! That was then, and _THIS_ shall remain then," he ground out, enunciating every word.

"I think you're overreacting."

"And I think you're being extremely insensitive. I said no. I have stated all the reasons I feel are necessary. Is this not enough for you? Why do you continue to doubt and discount MY feelings, MY reactions?" He whipped around to confront Harry head-on, his voice low and dangerous. "Or _do_ you 'discount' them? Are the petty concerns and insignificant feelings of the poor old greasy git, to whom you have magnanimously bestowed your largesse, so low, so base, they are not even worthy of your smallest consideration?"

Harry's eyes went wide, his face ashen, as he cried, "No, Severus. Never. I would never think that. How could I? I love you, damn it! I've _seen_ what Voldemort did to--"

Panic, full blown panic filled him and in its wake, Severus could almost see it come down--a heavy wall between them, blocking Harry from him, blocking the bond. He staggered in place, barely righting himself. Oh gods--he'd cut himself off from Harry, his lover, his mate. What had he done? Could _anything_ Harry wanted be worth this--this loss. It hurt, a heart pain coursing through him as if half of him had been ripped out by the roots of his soul.

"Are you happy now," he snarled to himself, storming for the door. As he was about to leave the house, he turned to face Harry, the emptiness aching within him. Defeated and unable to stop the words coming out of his mouth, he said, "I can't fight with you about this anymore. I can't talk to you until you see, _and fully accept_, that sometimes the things you want from me, I can't always give you. I'm sorry, but I--oh gods--I'm just sorry."

Harry took a step to the door. Severus closed his eyes to the pleading confusion in Harry's voice as he cried, "Severus! Don't leave. Don't do this! We need to talk. We always talk--don't we? I thought I was your friend."

"We're not talking if nothing useful is being said," he said sadly, turning away. As he quietly closed the door behind him, Severus whispered, "And I thought I was your husband."

* * *

The lanai was uncomfortable and drafty, but not as painful and cold as this separation. Severus shifted, trying to find a better position on the futon he'd brought from the outside storage closet to sleep on. He'd tried the chairs earlier, but the curves hurt his back, so he settled for this thin mattress, a pillow, and a blanket to try and provide him with some solace and rest where there was none.

How had he let this happen? How had he lost all control over himself this way? Even in anger he'd always been open to reason, or maybe that had been as much of a self-delusion as his thinking that anyone could accept him as he was. And perhaps that had been the greatest delusion of all, fuelled by his desperate need to be loved--that Harry could do so without question.

He put it aside and gazed out over the top of the rails at the sky beyond. The stars were beautiful tonight. They used to be warm and so close one could almost touch them, especially when seen through Harry's eyes while making love under them; now they were cold and distant. A breeze stirred across the old wooden boards. It used to feel like hands caressing his skin pressed tight to his lover's; now it made him shiver with the chill of loneliness.

Would they ever get it back? Or had he broken it? Could he fix it? Not alone he couldn't, and not without Harry's cooperation. He knew this now. His delivery could use a little work, but the message was the same. Harry had to understand that they were two different people, with different needs, and that what satisfied one terrified the other.

Fundamentally, these differences were what had come between them. With each passing day, the bond opened them up more and more, pushing and prodding them to see and know and feel _everything_ about each other. It would not allow them to blindly accept anything anymore, demanding instead a total mutual trust based on the truth of reality and not conjecture. This was _its_ honesty.

Harry had already embraced the bond with an enthusiasm he could not match, and until he could overcome his own inhibitions and deeply embedded instincts, he never would. He knew he'd looked unflinchingly at Harry's past terrors and failures, but for him to bare his own? No, this he could not do--not yet anyway.

It was that simple and that difficult. He could not so easily comply with the Harry's and the bond's demands for openness. Perhaps later, but right now he felt like a man held for years in total darkness being pulled abruptly into the harsh blaze of the noon sun. He needed time--time to adjust his sight and perspective, to let the light seep into the dark places, illuminating them softly without glare, without the pain and the tears. He'd feared everything else in his life; he didn't want to fear this, his relationship with Harry, as well.

And until Harry could see this, could accept this, could let him take it at his own pace, and curb his impatience, then they had nothing to talk about and were left with nothing but this gaping emptiness.

The door to the lanai snicked softly as it closed. He could feel the vibration of Harry's feet through the futon. He felt them stop near him and he rolled on his side away from the sound. The sigh reached him as the thin mattress dipped, the other body lying behind him. Another blanket and pillow joined his. A tentative touch to his arm made him shudder with longing, but he couldn't ask. It wouldn't be fair to ask.

"I'm not talking so you don't need to listen," a voice whispered in the quiet. "The bed won't let me sleep in it alone, I swear." The hand on his arm slid slowly down until it rested on top of his hand, the fingers stroking and curling through his lovingly. "I made the mistake once of not touching you, I won't make it again." He believed it--it had been a mistake, a terrible mistake that had cost Harry more than he should have had to pay.

"I love you, Severus," was followed by a soft kiss to the nape of his neck, the body so close he could feel its warmth on his back. He was cold in spirit and heart. He was tired of fighting and being separate. He entwined his fingers in the hand of his lover, shifted his body back to touch the body of his mate, lifted the hand in his to his lips where he tasted the palm of his husband before wrapping their arms close around him, both holding tight.

And the night was no longer so empty.

* * *

TBC


	38. Part III : You and the Horse You Rode In...

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Thirty Eight : You and the Horse You Rode In On**

**Tuesday 28 October 2003 HST**

Ben and Kalani set out early, the dawning morning crisp. Ben knew that if they looked back, they would see the darker trail left by the horses' hooves as they parted the dew-covered grass sparkling in the rising sun. Now that they were off, the uncharacteristic impatience, tugging at him ever since Malia and Kahealani's almost panicked visit last evening, subsided until all he felt was a mild sense of urgency.

"You want to talk about it now?" Kalani asked quietly. Ben smiled. Through their bond, he could feel Kalani's rampant curiosity held at bay with more patience than he himself possessed right now; he was, as always, grateful that at least this integral bit of magic, lodged deep within them, had survived intact from the accident--if anything, it was stronger than before.

"Yeah--sorry. I fell asleep before you came back last night and got up way before you did to get the food ready and--well, we had a bit of excitement while you were out at the shop."

"And you cut me off from it? So shame, you," Kalani said with a chuckle.

"Um, well, yeah. I thought at first it was just Malia's usual histrionics and didn't want her to bug you--I know how far behind you are on that commission. Problem was, when I realised it was serious, it was really too late to clue you in, so I just kept it closed, thinking I could tell you when you got home--and then I fell asleep--"

"Yeah-yeah-yeah," Kalani replied with good humour. "I get the picture. So, what happened?"

"Malia and Kahea' came by just after I took you your dinner. She said that Harry and Severus apparently had one hellacious fight sometime yesterday."

"So? People fight all the time."

"That's what I thought at first until she said the anger and magic were crackling around the house like wildfire and that when she tried to talk to him, Severus didn't say much other than 'Hi', 'thanks', and 'bye'."

Still not convinced, Kalani remarked, "Well, he's not exactly the most talkative guy on the planet."

"True, but if I heard her right, Kahea' reported that Harry said even less to her, like nothing, except 'I'm sorry'. She's really upset."

That hit the mark as he'd known it would; Kahea' was probably the calmest person Ben knew and her tears, more than anything Malia had said, had convinced him something was very wrong.

"What the hell do you think happened?"

Ben shrugged. "What does anyone fight over? However, I suspect it's quite serious."

"Eh, how's that?"

"I don't know, just a bad feeling, I guess. You know how intense Severus can be at times."

"Yeah, but he's pretty even-tempered."

Ben's brow puckered in amazement, his eyes wide and staring. "Where the hell were you the last time they were here? Siberia? I tell you, that man can _stomp_!"

Kalani just laughed. "Hon, if you could see your face right now--." He shrugged eloquently. "So, he has a temper? So what? He seems to be able to control it OK or I would've noticed."

Shaking his head, Ben remarked, "True, but he's an awful lot like you in that respect--a slow burner; I'm thinking any fight they have is going to be similar to one of our own, you know, like that one doozy we had the third night of our honeymoon."

"Oh--yeah. That was pretty intense; I've forgotten what it was about, though."

"Bullshit."

Kalani flushed and looked the other way. "Yeah, that, too."

Ben laughed, feeling at ease for the first time this morning. "Anyway, before she left last night, Mom talked privately to Aunty."

"Aue! That can't be good. What do they want?"

"They want us to find out what's going on."

"Niele wahine! And if we don't want to? I mean the boys deserve _some_ privacy, right?"

Rolling his eyes, Ben shook his head. "Kalani," he said with more than a bit of irony, "this is _Poppy_ and _Malia_ we're talking about here. And we're _all_ on Poppy's shit list because Malia told her they didn't eat anything she'd brought."

Kalani just nodded his head, grunting, "Uhn".

Ben knew exactly how he felt.

* * *

The sun was only an hour past dawn when Severus woke, alone on the lanai. His back was cold. Sitting up groggily, he searched until he spied Harry sitting out on the beach well out of the way of the tide, his arms wrapped around his knees tucked up under his chin. A forlorn sight if he ever saw one, but there was nothing more to be said. So he stayed where he was, resisting the call of his heart, which wanted him to go out there, right now, and at least sit by his husband, even in silence. He stiffly climbed to his feet and thought about folding the blankets, but he suspected he might need them again tonight as the bond was still firmly closed to him, so he left his where they were, carefully folding Harry's instead.

He was about to go into the house when he heard the sound of horses approaching. Ben. He'd forgot all about their planned outing this morning and wondered how he could put him off; given his morose thoughts, he wasn't exactly the best of company this morning, nor was he sure he wanted Ben to wheedle the whole sordid mess out of him. Which brought the first smile of the day; Ben was probably the _only_ one, other than Harry, who could even attempt that and expect some sort of success. Harry. He glanced out at the beach. Harry had noticed Ben as well, but had turned his head back to the ocean, ignoring him. Them, Severus amended as Ben and Kalani rode up to the lanai.

Ben dismounted, and after eyeing the make-shift bed, said with a chuckle, "Hui! Someone slept on the lanai last night."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Which is probably why someone was out on the lanai." Ben jumped up to join him, eyeing the pillow and blanket Severus clutched to his chest like a shield. "What? Harry slept out here too?"

Severus hesitated and compromised with, "He said the bed wouldn't let him sleep in it alone."

Ben chuckled, yet his face was serious. "Eh, with as much Mana as that bed has, I'm not surprised."

Mana? Severus knew he'd heard the word before, but couldn't quite place it. "All right. What's Mana?"

"I'll tell you on the ride. I'll even feed you--I have coffee for me, tea for you, and some breakfast. Let's just get going."

So how was he to tell him he didn't want to go? Stepping closer, Ben beat him to it, though, his voice low as he murmured, "Malia told us what happened. If you'd rather stay here, I understand."

Severus eyed his friend and suddenly knew he needed to leave. If he stayed, all he would do was sit on the lanai, staring at Harry, until one of them came to their senses. Not necessarily a promising prospect and maybe not something that would happen today or anytime in the near future. "A distraction would be welcome at this point." He knew his conjecture was correct when he, once again, found his eyes inexorably drawn to the figure on the beach, now two; Kalani had joined Harry. "We have nothing healthy to say to each other right now--" he turned his attention back to Ben "--and I haven't changed my mind; obviously Harry hasn't either because--" he took a steadying breath "--our bond is still severed." Ben's eyes widened a fraction and he drew breath to say something Severus was quite certain he didn't want nor need to hear. "Let me get cleaned up and I'll be right back."

Ben blinked. "Why bother? We're just going to get dirty again. Just throw on some clothes--" Severus turned to go inside "--and bring a towel and trunks." As he turned the door handle with a grimace of distaste, Ben called after him, "Eh, don't waste any time--it's not like I'm going to kiss you, and the horse is upwind. Just bring your kit--you can take care of it when we get there."

Severus grunted, going inside. A few minutes later he reappeared dressed in black boots and jeans and a soft cotton button-down shirt he'd bought last summer, the sleeves rolled partway up his forearms. In one hand he carried his kit and in the other his collection bags. He closed the door firmly behind him, fully expecting Ben's exasperated, "Oh, for the love of Pete, are you going to make us stop every five feet to gather samples and specimens?"

Severus shrugged, walking towards the horses. "You said you wanted to talk to me about Kalani. Does it matter if I work some while you talk? I concentrate better when my hands are occupied."

Ben rolled his eyes and joined him. "Yeah-yeah-yeah. Whatevers. C'mon, let's go."

Severus snorted and shook his head as he approached Bella, a strawberry roan he preferred to ride. Grinning, Ben rummaged in a deep pocket in his cargo pants and pulled out some carrot chunks, which he handed to Severus without comment. As Bella nibbled, snuffling hot air on his outstretched palm, Severus chuckled inside at Ben's artifice--the well-worn saddle he'd used was the one from last summer with all the rings around the front and back for him to hook on his full 'specimen' bags. 'For the love of--', indeed.

After rubbing and patting Bella's nose, he tied his bags onto the rings and checked the bit and harness. After testing the cinch, he set his foot in the stirrup and grabbed the pommel, smoothly swinging himself up into the saddle, Ben doing the same on a black gelding Severus had never seen before. The mare skittered sideways a bit; as Severus took loose hold of the reins, he directed her with a tightening of his knees and she settled down quickly. He liked Bella, a patient, sure-footed horse up in the mountains, even though her mouth was a bit soft. He settled comfortably into the saddle and with a kick of his heels against her sides, they set off at a fast walk. He refused to look back at the beach as they left, but could almost feel the burn of Harry's eyes. So be it.

Severus let Ben take the lead, holding the mare back until his friend was a length away. Reaching the road, he leant over to pat and rub her neck soothingly as she nickered softly at the passing cars, although whom he was trying to calm was hard to say. Once they crossed, they rode side-by-side on the grassy verge, Severus asking Ben companionably, "Now, about Mana?"

He wasn't sure what Ben had been expecting, but given his start of surprise, he didn't think that was it. "Oh, yeah. Mana. It's the spiritual energy or power of a thing." Severus raised a brow. "Hmmm. It's hard to explain, but we believe people can add positive or negative energy to something or somewhere over time. It either makes it special--like your bed--or something to avoid."

More than a bit sceptical, Severus said, "Spiritual energy."

Ben thought about it a moment. "Well, maybe that's a bit broad. OK, I got a good example. My dad's sister, Aunty Nona, has this cooking pot. It's all rusted and pitted and if you were seeing it for the first time, you wouldn't want to eat anything out of it. But it belonged to her mother, and her mother, and you know, like forever, and the food she makes in it is soooo ono.

"Well, a couple of years back two of my cousins decided her pot was unsanitary, so they bought her this new one and, since they're supposed to be so akamai (having gone to some la-la school on the mainland), they convinced her to use their pot and throw out the old one. Man, the food was so junk. Every time. Same recipes and everything she's been using all her life, but it was still junk. So she starts complaining that the new pot's got no 'Mana' and she wants her old pot back.

"So me and my other cousin, Brian, my Aunty's-husband's-sister's-kid go looking for it. Took us two weeks to find that damned thing--had to finally go all the way over to the landfill outside of Kihei. Digging through all the garbage and stuff, we finally found it, not a spot on it other than what it came with, and we took it back to my aunty. She planted some flowers in the new one, boiled the old one and has been using it ever since, saying the pot's got Mana from so many women using it and cooking with it. Understand?"

And he did. "Actually, I do. I have cauldrons like that--ones that have had so many dark potions brewed in them over the centuries, they could never be used for anything light. But what does that have to do with our bed? Is it antique?"

"Not hardly, although Kalani will be flattered you think so," Ben replied with a laugh. "He made it completely by hand, from dragging the trees out of the mountains, to the last polishing. There's no magic in it except for curing the wood. Malia, Joseph, Kahealani, and I helped over the seven weeks it took him to make it. So you see, there's a lot of _our_--Mana--in that bed."

A myriad of thoughts and emotions whirled through Severus, the most prevalent being astonishment. Seven weeks? By hand? He couldn't help but stare at Ben. His simple, choked, "Thank you," seemed so inadequate and yet what did one say to something like this without seeming the fool?

However, given the flush on Ben's face, and the way he ducked his head, he must have expressed _something_ of the strong emotions running through him. "Eh, we just wanted to give you something special. Start it off right. A good bed is always a nice place to start a marriage."

"Indeed," Severus said with a small smile. They rode in silence for a while, Ben looking over at him every so often as if to ask him something, but he never did. Severus, for his part, was relieved Ben chose to remain silent, the ride serving to relax him a bit. As they approached what passed as the centre of town, near the clinic, traffic picked up and Severus could see, further on, a long line of people standing by the side of the road, carrying placards and waving at all the passing cars, many of which honked and brightened their headlamps as they passed.

"Ben?" Severus asked, pointing. "Why are all those people over there?" He tightened his knees on Bella's flanks as her nervousness telegraphed to him through her twitching ears.

"They're running for office," Ben replied, rigidly controlling his own horse.

Severus couldn't resist it as he dead-panned, "They look like they're standing still to me."

Ben groaned, "Ohhhh--it's way too early for that." He continued, smiling, "Seriously, they're politicians seeking election to office. This year it's mostly local, although there's a couple of state issues on the ballot. Voting's next Tuesday, so every day there'll be more and more of them crawling out of the woodwork, jamming traffic and waving their little signs so the good voters won't forget their names. They draw straws to see who gets to stand closest to the polls, as if that will change anyone's mind."

There were so many things Severus didn't understand about any of it, except the clear derision in Ben's tone, but as they were fast approaching the thirty or so people arrayed on both sides of the road, he reckoned he would have time later to ask. As he looked them over, he decided the ones with the leis were probably the ones 'running' for office and decided the Muggle politicians were not all that different from their Wizarding counterparts--he wouldn't 'vote' for any of them.

They were walking the horses behind a small cluster when Ben suddenly stopped his horse, calling out, "Ho! Gary! Got a question for you."

A well-tanned Asian man with a thick Maile lei turned at Ben's words and walked over to them. Looking Severus over in a manner that made him want to growl, 'Gary' asked, "Hey, Chan! Howzit? Who's your Obake friend?"

Ben's eyes narrowed and Severus caught the flash of anger, but it didn't colour his words as he replied, "This is Severus Snape. You know, Aunty's friend--the one who bought the old Malahini place." He turned to Severus. "Severus, this is Gary Okana, our local councilman."

"Pleasure to meet you," Severus said, his clipped accent precise.

Gary eyed Severus with a bit more respect, and after nodding to him, turned back to Ben as he asked, "What you want, Chan?"

Perhaps ignoring an introduction and calling someone by their bare surname was acceptable here. Or else Ben was being overly polite as he asked calmly, "What's the land-use height restriction at his place?"

Gary replied instantly, "Twenty-five feet from the lowest land point to the top of roof, regardless of entry point."

"Thanks and good luck next week," Ben answered, clicking his tongue at his horse to get him moving again. Once they were past the odious man, Ben chortled, "Not! That guy spends way too much time up at the golf course. Kalani turned him into a toad last election--had to _Obliviate_ the idiot."

Severus chuckled. _This_ he understood and it accounted for the unnatural tan the man had; he didn't strike him as a 'common' labourer, although laying some stone out in the hot sun might do him a world of good. He made a mental note to commend Kalani the next time he saw him. "So what does all that mean?"

"It means you don't have enough height to get a pitched roof _and_ two floors, and I ain't going over there every time it rains to sweep the water off your roof, so out it is."

Severus mulled this over. "Hmph. What is 'Obake'?"

"Gary's a stupid ass--was hoping you wouldn't catch that. 'Obake' is Japanese for 'ghost' or any type of supernatural spirit."

Rolling his eyes, Severus said dryly, "Oh wonderful. Now I've been relegated to the realm of Polynesian ghosts, vampires, and ghouls?"

Ben laughed. "Hey, could be worse."

Severus stared at him.

"He could have called you a 'damned Haoli'."

"True, but only once. What colour was he last time?"

Ben chuckled, rummaging in his saddle bag. "A really disgusting puce. However, he does have a point--here, Kemosabe, catch. Put some on before you fry."

Without thinking, Severus' hand shot out and a heavy tube smacked into it. He shook the sting out of his palm while looking at the label. "Neutrogena SPF 50 Sunblock Lotion?"

"Joseph owled it over last night. Said he didn't have any in stock, but that this would work almost as well. Doesn't take much."

Having experienced a sunburn last summer so bad he couldn't move, Severus warily sniffed it and, grimacing, judiciously applied the thick cream, wondering what made it drag against his skin. Strange people, Muggles.

They rode further, both men deep in thought. Turning between two houses as dilapidated as his own, Ben called a friendly greeting to a local woman hanging her wash out to dry on a line strung between two banyon trees. Once past her property, Ben kicked in his heels and they set off at a fast canter across a wide open field dotted here and there with lone acacia trees under an azure sky. As the ground-eating pace quickly brought them even with a herd of grazing cattle, Severus couldn't help but compare the long smooth plain rising before him with its waist high grass to the rockier moors to which he was more accustomed.

The lush mountains beyond were what really drew his attention, though. As mountains went, they weren't very tall, perhaps no more than three or four thousand feet, but they were sheer in places, almost like undulating cliffs. He remembered Kalani telling him once that the paths at the top were no wider than a man was tall. Amazing, simply amazing--and green, so many greens the eye gave up trying to fathom them all as the tenacious foliage and trees clinging to their sides covered every inch until they looked as if draped in the richest velvet.

When they reached the bottom of the foothills, they slowed to take the horses on a broad path wide enough for them to ride side-by-side. Severus felt his cares melt away as they passed from the bright sunshine into a darker fairy world of tall feathery trees canopied far overhead, dripping with air roots hanging like curtains from broad branches. Vines bearing huge waxy philodendron leaves the size of elephants' ears or snow white flowers with centres the colour of the finest claret climbed up the mighty trunks of banyon and monkeypod trees. The steep, winding path cleaved the heavy undergrowth of mountain ferns, its smoothness of hard-packed black dirt and volcanic stone interrupted by heavy tree roots the horses easily picked their way over. Every now and again, the rich greens at the forest's floor were broken by clumps of flowers, some spidery and fragile like the blushing Queen Emma Lilies he'd collected before with their delicate scent, or tall and regal like the white ginger with its heady perfume. Breathing deeply, he couldn't help thinking this was a place with an enchantment all its own.

Into the hushed silence, Severus commented quietly, "You don't use much magic here, do you?"

Taken aback, Ben replied, "Why should we? There's only twenty of us on this side and two, Kahealani and Kalani, are almost squibs. We can't separate ourselves like you do in England because there aren't enough of us to make a sustainable community, so we blend in and leave magic mostly for emergencies and some small household conveniences. Some of our neighbors suspect, especially the older ones who _know_ how long we've lived here, but they are accepting; we make every effort to be a part of the community. And that means we have electricity and cable TV and high-speed internet and Muggle kitchens and mortgages and invite friends over to visit just like everyone else." He chuckled. "Could you imagine their faces if they walked into a typical Wizarding home with all its Wizarding space and gadgets?"

Severus, laughed, immediately thinking of the Burrow the one time he'd visited with Harry. Harry. His face fell with the thought. Well, he supposed he couldn't forget about it forever. He ignored Ben's thoughtful gaze on him as they rode on in silence up into the mountains.

* * *

Kalani didn't often invite folk to his workshop, but he had a commission to complete and _he'd_ wanted to talk to Harry in the first place, and now it seemed Harry needed to talk to anyone who would really listen. He guessed he was elected, although confidences of this nature from anyone except Ben made him uncomfortable. 

They'd not talked much on the walk over, a matter of 15 minutes; he supposed that to anyone else, the silence would have been oppressive, but he wasn't that curious a person to begin with and certainly not someone itching to pry. Nor did he have any patience for guessing games. He was a straight-line thinking kind of guy, not given to deep fancies or speculation, which he guessed probably made him look dull in other people's eyes, but to him just seemed the best way to be getting on with it. So be it.

Harry's silence did bother him a little because he knew it wasn't normal. And, as he handed Harry a connector to sand, he figured he would have to be the one to make the first overture because his friend was giving every indication he could keep this up forever. But there was something about his silence that told Kalani that keeping it wasn't healthy, so he prepared himself for the invasion of Harry. Sounded like one of those wartime stories his dad was always going on about.

He was about to ask, when he noticed what Harry was doing with his dowel. Not good at all, and gently Kalani stopped him with a, "Thanks, I think that's got it," taking the connector from him and placing it to the side where he would be sure to remember to discard it later--after Harry was gone. No sense making him feel worse. Casting about the shop, he spied one of the finished legs of the table waiting polishing. Ah, something no one could mess up. He pulled the leg out and handed it to Harry, along with a baby diaper he favoured as a polishing cloth, and a bottle of tung oil he set on the workbench in front of him.

"Do you mind oiling the wood for me? I gotta get this done by next week and I am sooo behind."

"What do I need to do?" Harry asked him dully.

"Pour a little of the oil on the cloth and rub it into the wood going with the grain. When it gets dry, just add more oil to the cloth."

"All right." He did as he was told, showing Kalani. "Like this?"

"Yeah, that'll do it. Thanks."

"All right."

Kalani made sure Harry was busy and powered up the lathe. For a while they worked in companionable quiet, Harry only jumping every now and again whenever Kalani turned on the machine. There was something soothing about turning the hard koa wood evenly, watching the blade work its magic, but it certainly required more concentration than he was able to give it right now with Harry staring off into space, his hands on autopilot as they rubbed the oil into the wood. Just as well he gave him something innocuous to do. Time for him to do the same if he didn't want to have to do this over again.

So he pulled over his own leg and rag, wet the cloth and started polishing, the clear tung oil instantly darkening the richly textured koa wood. "Wanna talk about it?" Oh, that was a _great_ beginning. 'Dear Kalani' he'd be in no time.

"Not really. Sorry."

"No problem. Bit of a clam myself."

The silence stretched. He tried again. "Want some breakfast?"

Harry jumped. "No, thank you. Not too hungry."

Kalani didn't answer because he knew Harry wasn't listening and was suddenly glad he'd eaten before he and Ben had left this morning. However, coffee sounded good. He went over to the pot and poured himself a cup. "Coffee?" he asked, holding up the pot.

"No, I don't drink it."

"Tea? I have tea."

Harry looked over at him and something softened in his face. "Sure, tea would be fine."

Right. One tea coming up. At least he had this small household magic and, drawing his wand, he whispered the spell to make the water hot. He put in a bag of Liptons, wincing as he did so. He knew Poppy's opinions about them, but it was all he had. "Sorry about the bag."

"It's all right. Got used to it the last time I was out here." Harry squeezed out the bag, setting it aside. He blew on the top, taking a sip. When he didn't grimace, Kalani went back to work, setting his own mug in front of him.

Kalani finished one leg and got another. He glanced over and saw Harry rubbing away at the same spot and wondered how he could tactfully ask him to move up. Finally he shrugged. Didn't much matter and he bent to his own task.

"I shouldn't have asked."

Kalani's head came up. Should he respond?

"I know better than to do it. So why did I? That's what I don't understand. I knew what his answer would be and I still opened my mouth."

Was that rhetorical? Damn, he wasn't very good at this.

"Does Ben keep secrets from you?"

A direct question--finally. "Not really. Ben's little secrets usually concern me, you know, like hiding birthday presents and such, or when he keeps quiet trying to figure out how to ask me something. Nothing major. No, I'm usually the one who doesn't open up or talk about things."

"Severus is hiding something from me."

"If it's a secret, how do you know that?" Kalani asked reasonably. Maybe he'd get a clue as to how Ben always managed to ferret his out.

"There's something Severus doesn't like to do, and I know it has something to do with his past, something bad that happened to him when he was a spy. I've seen parts of it in his dreams and through our bond, but I don't know exactly what it is or how to react to it because it's so much more than just what he doesn't like to do--it colours many aspects of his life, his judgement, his decisions. Our life, our decisions. And I'm always stepping in it, like yesterday because I don't know _why_ it is and, damn it! he won't tell me."

It took Kalani a few moments to process the barrage of information. "Let me see if I got this straight. Something bad happened to Severus a long time ago. It affects him today and by association, you. Right?" Harry nodded. "OK. You know _what_ it is, sort of, know what happened, sort of, but not enough to side-step any issues or problems you cause because of what you don't know about. Is that it?"

"Yes, precisely."

"Can I ask you a couple of questions? I don't need any details, please, just a general yes or no will do fine." Harry looked wary, but nodded. Well, this was progress, he guessed, although he still didn't like to pry. "This incident, was it really life-shattering, like a death, or worse?" Harry nodded. "And you've seen enough to have a general idea of what it was about?" Another nod. "And you said you knew better than to ask?"

Harry dropped his head. "Yes, I really should have known better."

Kalani kept his voice quiet. "OK, I'm confused. It sounds to me like you already know the important parts of it, so what more, exactly, do you want to know?"

Harry replied, "Severus has not told me directly what happened. All I have is conjecture, not fact."

Aia, Harry was so like Ben, it was scary. Kalani took care not to let the exasperation he normally let loose at his husband colour his words to Harry. "Just how accurate do you think your conjecture is if you already know there are things you need to avoid to set him off? I mean, can't you just project it and figure out the rest without picking at it?" Oh, that was smart, very smart, Kalani. Make him feel worse, why don't you?

Kalani wasn't surprised when Harry failed to answer. Trying to salvage the mess he'd made, he said, "I can only give you my perspective here, OK? I think I understand where Severus is coming from. Yeah, it's private and, yeah, he knows he needs to tell you because of how it affects you both, but I tell you, there are just some things one just can't say out loud."

Harry at least seemed interested. "So if one can't talk about it, how does one communicate it?"

"You don't ask anything easy, do you?" he asked with a grin. "All one can really do is leave clues or lead one's spouse into other directions that lets them see what needs to be seen. And sometimes that's all one can give, or all one gets."

"Then how do you keep from hurting each other?"

"What? You think you're going to live the rest of your lives together and _not_ hurt each other somewhere along the way?" Harry flushed. He really thought that? They were in for a world of hurt, which prompted him to say gently, "It's about trust and love, Harry. And I know you both do--hell, I felt your binding down to my toes, it was so strong. It's really not that difficult. Severus trusts that you know he isn't withholding things to hurt you. You have to trust that Severus still loves you despite whatever he is withholding and that he's not doing it _because_ of you, but because of _himself_. There's a huge difference there, you know."

Hope shining in his eyes, Harry asked, "You really think so? It's not me?"

"As sure as I can be." He hesitated, but hell, he'd already gone this far. "And as long as we're covering my personal opinion, I have to say that satisfying one's curiosity is a silly thing to fight over if one truly has trust in the other."

Harry nodded, saying absently, "Thanks. Maybe you're right." Soon he was lost in thought again.

Kalani bent back to work, lighter of heart. He stole occasional glances at Harry, noting that his face wasn't as closed and the silence wasn't as unbearable. And he was still polishing that damned leg! Maybe now would be the time to distract him with his own concern, something he could only ask Harry. Maybe at least he'd leave off and not wear the grain off the wood.

Taking a deep breath, Kalani said, "Ah, Harry, I was wondering--"

* * *

TBC

* * *

Definitions:  
So shame, you You should be ashamed of yourself  
Aue! An exclamation like "Oh shit"  
Niele wahine! Nosy women!  
Uhn a grunt of assent  
Hui! (Hoo-ee) 'Hello there' when called out from a distance - not to be confused with hui (noun), or flock (of something).  
ono delicious  
akamai smart, clever  
junk, so junk bad, horrible  
Kihei (Key-hay) one of the main towns on the other side of the mountains from Hana  
Haoli Caucasian or mainlander - originally meant foreigner  
Kemosabe for those of you too young to remember black and white TV's, Kemosabe was what Tonto called The Lone Ranger  
Aia an exclamation of incredulity 


	39. Part III : A Paradigm is Just a Nickel S...

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Thirty Nine : A Paradigm is Just a Nickel Short of a Quarter**

**Tuesday 28 October 2003 HST** (Continued)

Severus had enjoyed this spot last summer when Kalani had brought them up here to go sliding. Private, the lush forest surrounding it made it feel as if they were the only two people on earth. The crystal clear water, sweet to the taste, was shallow enough to easily see to the bottom, which at its deepest came to his chest; it was cold, but one got used to it after a while. The wide waterfall off to one side, started from a rocky ledge a few hundred feet above to fall gracefully into the pool below churning the water at its foot into a white froth. On the opposite side, the stream the pool fed wandered off in a series of long shallow drops; it was here that Kalani had shown them how to use the thick cardboard squares to slide down the resulting white water to the next pool hundreds of feet below.

True to Ben's word, Severus was able to clean up, although he had to admit he'd never had a more unusual bath before in his life. He worked the lather up in his hair, impressed that the soapy substance had come directly from a plant Ben had collected on their way up. In fact, despite Ben's earlier teasing, it had been his friend who'd stopped 'every five feet'--a ripened red mango here, a plump papaya there, several tiny but fat bananas, and one odd little yellow fruit he'd tried (unsuccessfully) to reach balanced standing on the back of his horse. Severus had barely suppressed his laughter at Ben's sheepish expression as he'd coolly pulled his wand and brought down two of the starfruit Ben wanted.

Further on, he'd climbed into the foliage on the side of the path to harvest four pods of _Awapui_ which resembled nothing less than tightly closed, bright red pine cones. Breaking the heavy blossoms in half had yielded a white juice with which he now bathed. Finished, he moved to the side, letting the roar of the waterfall cover his howls as the icy water, fresh from the higher altitudes, rinsed the soapy sap off of him.

When he came out, Ben just grinned at him as he cut the fruit he'd harvested with a wicked, long-bladed knife he'd carried sheathed in his pack. Severus dried quickly sitting in the sun, his skin smelling almost sweet from the plant. He briefly wondered what Harry would make of it and slumped on the rock he was sitting on in defeat. No, he wasn't going to be able to forget for very long.

"You all right?" Ben asked quietly, not looking at him as he stripped the mango away from the hard core.

Severus sighed. He supposed he owed Ben some sort of explanation. "I'll be fine as soon as Harry realises that what he wants from me is something I can't give him right now."

"Oh? And may I ask what could Harry possibly want that he doesn't already have?"

Well, it _was_ his own fault, making such an open-ended statement. Haltingly, Severus replied, "Harry wants me to 'give' him--well, actually tell him something he already knows."

Ben lifted his head from his task to gaze at him seriously. "And he 'already knows' this because you've explained it clearly to him or because he's managed to piece it together from little things you've dropped over the years?"

"Both, I suppose. We've discussed bits of it _ad nauseum_, I'd thought, or at least as much as I'm able to without opening some very old wounds."

"Hmmm. Difficult for you both. At the risk of dragging this farther than you want, can I assume you don't want to tell because it has something to do with your past?" When Severus nodded dolefully, Ben continued, "Never easy that. And you've not told him 'everything'?" Again Severus nodded, unable to voice what the problem truly was. "And Harry 'pushed'?"

"I don't know why it upset me so this time, he always _pushes_, as you say."

"Ah, yes, maybe, but before it was only verbally. Now you have a bond between you. That changes everything. Now he can _feel_ everything you feel but can't _see_, unless you let him. And I suspect, given how much like Kalani you are, 'showing' him is the part you _don't_ want to do. Am I right?"

"As usual," was all he could say.

Ben looked to the side, obviously debating something within. "Hmmm. You know, I understand where Harry is coming from. Want some advice?"

"Not really, but you're going to give it to me anyway, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I am because I've been through this; every bonded couple I know has. It's not fatal, even 'severing' the bond, as you said. Can't begin to count the number of times Kalani or I have cut the other off because we were getting too close to things that really hurt inside." He hopped into the water, wincing and letting out a whoosh of air at the cold.

Severus chuckled. Served him right. Wading over to him, Ben brought over a paper plate with the cut fruit on it. "Nothing better than messy fruit you can bathe off after eating," he said, putting the plate down on the rock before hauling himself up onto it, not too close, but close enough that if someone else came along, they wouldn't overhear them.

"It's about validation, my friend, and you can stop me anytime you want--but only if I'm wrong. So let's see. Harry has been an open book with you, there's not much you haven't seen of his past, not only because he's so young, but also because it's not in his nature to hide things." Severus opened his mouth to speak. "Eh, none of that--his mastery was another thing altogether and you know it." Severus had to agree. "So the bond comes along; Harry feels 'this' and you can connect it to things in his past that explain it to you. Harry feels 'that' and it's the same thing." He ate a slice of the mango, the juices dripping down his chin. Reaching down, he scooped up some water into his hand, rinsing his face off.

Picking up a piece of papaya, he pointed it at Severus. "Now you, my friend, are another matter altogether. You have a _history_, one that started long before he was born and got _interesting_ while he was just a baby. And you? You keep things inside tighter than a drum and you're pricklier than a cactus sometimes." He chuckled. "Anyway, Harry feels 'this' from you and he _thinks_ he knows what the problem is, but he's not sure. Harry feels 'that' from you, and he still isn't sure because you haven't told him what he really needs to know."

"And what is it he _needs_ to know?" Severus asked with asperity.

"See, there's that cactus again, and I can tell you that because I have zero stake in your relationship. But Harry? To his mind he stands to lose everything if he makes the wrong move because you'll bite his head off at the slightest invasion into what you consider 'your-life-thank-you-very-much'."

"I do _not_ bite off his head!" Severus spat.

"No, you're too busy trying to chew mine off." He smiled. "It's OK, Kalani will put it back on."

"Sorry."

"No harm done. See?" He rotated his head on his neck. "Still attached."

Severus had a sudden vision of Nearly Headless Nick and smiled.

"You're going to have to give on this issue eventually, Severus. I know it's hard--I've watched Kalani struggle with it for years. And I know you need time. Harry needs to learn patience, something I suspect he's a little shy of, but you're going to have to _show_ him, fully reveal those episodes of your past that make you feel the way you do. He needs validation; _you_ need purging. Whatever the issue was that started this whole thing must obviously be important to both of you--" he held up his hand "--and no, I don't want to know. I'm not that curious. That's Kalani's department."

He rinsed off his hands and rubbed them dry on his swim trunks. Ben's gaze bored into him, the seriousness of his expression sending a shiver down Severus' spine. "However, I _will_ say this. Perhaps you've been so busy protecting those sordid memories of yours that you've lost sight of one very important little _fact_. I was there, Severus. I _Felt_ It. I _know_ how deep your bond is with Harry. Hell, we ALL knew it. _And you could not have bonded with Harry as deeply as you did if BOTH of you did not have absolute trust in the other!_" He paused to let this sink in; Severus was stunned when he continued with raw anger in his voice, "So--just who is it you don't trust, my friend? Who the fuck are you afraid of? Harry? Or yourself?"

Ben pushed off the rock abruptly and swam to the far side of the pool, leaving Severus to his raging thoughts.

**.:o:. .:o:. .:o:. .:o:.**

Ben wasn't very happy with his anger there at the end, but it had been an automatic reflex and he knew some apologies were due. While he was quite sure his husband's 'secrets' were nowhere near as serious as those he suspected Severus concealed, the stubbornness at revealing them was definitely the same, something he'd been fighting for many years; the irate response was just a part of it.

His temper firmly back where it belonged, Ben swam back over to Severus, heartened by his thoughtful mein; hopefully he hadn't pissed him off too badly. He really did need to talk to him. Standing on a rock under the water, Ben ducked his head, embarrassed that he'd lost control. "Ah, I'm sorry--didn't mean to--"

"It's all right, Ben. I underst--"

"Sheesh, you're a tough crowd. Do you even know how to accept a full apology?" When Severus just stared at him, Ben grinned. "Now do you think you can shut up long enough for a body to get a word in edgewise?" Good, he had his attention, although that brow thing of his was annoying, but since everything about Severus was a package deal... "OK, then. I'm not sorry about what I said, but I probably could've said it better and you certainly did not deserve my--irritation. It's just that--eh, never mind--it's not important. It was a knee-jerk response; I'm sorry I got angry."

Severus was obviously waiting to see if he was finished before he replied drolly, "Apology accepted. However, you didn't just bring me up here to discuss my--habits?" he ended with a question.

Ben hauled himself back up on the rock and, after shaking the water off his hands, ate a slice of starfruit. "Yes, there is that," he said softly. Where to begin. "Ah," he looked off to the side, "can I speak frankly here? I guess you figured I wanted to talk about Kalani?"

Severus nodded, "That was my assumption when you said you didn't want to speak to me where your husband could 'listen in'. As to speaking 'frankly', I did _not_ assume you brought me all the way up here to prevaricate."

Chuckling, Ben said, "Assuming anything about Kalani and me can get you into trouble. We're slightly kapakahi." Now that he'd got Severus up here, he didn't know where to start. It had seemed fairly simple to him when he first thought of it, but now? He ate another slice of the sweet starfruit, spitting the seeds into the water when he finished. Surprised and somewhat relieved at his friend's silence and neutral gaze, Ben began, "Last summer, when Harry healed Kalani, I didn't know he'd also healed some other--ah, things--beyond his obvious injuries. But what I did notice was that right afterwards, Kalani was more physically--affectionate--than he had been for--well, for quite a while." He could feel heat fill his face--damn it, he hated it when he blushed.

"Anyway, at first I thought it was because our bond was--tighter--than it had been before. You know--some of the--physical--ah, side-effects of a bond--they can be pretty amazing and when you're both in tune? Aia! I guess I also thought it was Kalani's way of--avoiding--any confrontation about his--limitations--by distracting me. After a while, we went back to our more normal--ah, routines--sometimes less, especially when he'd get really frustrated with his loss of magic and would shut me out. You know what I mean?"

Ben didn't think he'd ever seen Severus at a loss for words and hoped he wasn't embarrassing him too much. But he really needed an answer, one he couldn't ask Harry directly. Thoughtful, Severus said slowly, "I believe so. I've personally--withdrawn--physical affection--when I've been extremely upset with Harry and I certainly know of what you speak when you say 'physical side-effects' of a bond, although I've don't view it in quite that manner, but perhaps that will change--it is still rather--new--in my experience. You are implying it is more than Kalani's--frustration, though. What's the problem?"

"I am indeed. It got pretty bad a few weeks ago, about the time Kalani started working on the bed. He'd leave early, come home late--I just figured he was concentrating on it because he was OK otherwise, but he'd come home--exhausted--and just fall asleep. It got worse, and every time I'd get close to an answer, or I 'pushed' a little on the bond to try and find out what was going on, he'd shut me out. Over the years, it's not so hard to do and Kalani has always been a very private person, but this was getting old fast, so about four weeks ago, I finally confronted him on it."

He remembered the argument; it had been vicious. They'd not had one like it since the one on their honeymoon and it had scared him. "Took me a few days to wheedle it out of him, but that's when I found out about the things Harry healed, one of them being some rather serious rectal damage called a prolapse, I think." Damn there was that blush again. "I was really pissed that Kalani had never mentioned it to me before and wasn't planning on telling me now."

"But with the bond, how could he hide it?" Severus asked incredulously.

"Oh that's actually pretty easy. He 'rode' the bond--used my pleasure to cover his own discomfort. It's not hard to do at all." And that had hurt when he'd found out. To him it was almost like lying.

"Isn't that a bit dishonest?"

Ben laughed grimly. "Trust you to see it that way--so did I. But he can't hide it anymore and I can tell it's starting to really bother him again. It hurts him to the point where I can feel it, now that I know what I'm looking for."

"How can _I_ help?"

The almost horrified, quizzical expression on Severus' face was one Ben would remember for a long time. Severus Snape, sex counselor. He decided to rescue him. "I just have two questions. Should I ask Harry to look at Kalani again? And if I do, how can I approach Kalani about this? I haven't a clue how to broach the subject, but I'm worried. The problem has only been 'fixed' for a few months and it's already coming back with a vengeance, maybe worse than before."

He looked away. "I don't know what to do, Severus. Kalani is so touchy about his privacy, it will be difficult to approach him; he'll look on this as a gross invasion, since it's his body and he's always felt it's his decision what to do with it." Looking back at Severus, he was glad to see him frowning thoughtfully. "It's especially hard to know since sometimes I think he feels his control over his own person is all he has left now that most of his magic is gone."

Severus stared at nothing. Ben broke the heavy silence. "I'll tell you what. I'll get the rest of breakfast out. You, think. Deal?"

"A cup of tea would be most appreciated," Severus said, bemused.

As Ben unpacked the sack, he stole a few glances over at his friend. His face gave nothing away; this was not a man with whom he'd play poker. After a few minutes, Severus waded across the pool to take a seat on a rock near him. He took the black tea Ben had prepared and, sighing with what Ben could only assume was pleasure, sipped the beverage, deep in thought.

Ben had consumed a cup of black coffee before Severus asked quietly, "Is all your sex anal?"

Ben couldn't have been more shocked if he'd stuck his finger in a socket. Was this a trick question? "Ye-esss. What else would we be talking about?"

Severus chuckled, replying, "You'd be surprised what one can do when both partners are true, dedicated tops and both have serious issues with both penetration and being a bottom." He took a sip of tea, glancing sideways at him.

Huh? Ben stared at him and then it dawned on him what Severus was really saying. Incredulous, he asked, "You and Harry?" Ben couldn't believe it when Severus nodded. "But--how do you--handle it?"

"It's really very simple. We don't do penetration."

"Ever?"

"No."

"Never?"

Grim, Severus' face changed. Ben suddenly wished he'd never brought it up; this was obviously a touchy subject. "Only once. It was not--pleasant--for Harry, although I admit I enjoyed it. I have--physical damage--that prevents Harry from topping. And we both have--personal--issues--with being a bottom."

Without thinking, Ben asked, "Can't Harry heal you?" He put his hands over his mouth--stupid idiot! "I'm sorry--none of my business."

Severus shook his head. "You said frankly. That has to work both ways. To answer your question--I've never asked. It would be pointless to do so. The--damage--is too old and still has too much of Voldemort's intent in it to heal it." Severus faced turned bleak as he murmured, "He promised me a lifetime's retribution for my defiance." He glanced at Ben and hesitated. Then determination filled his face and he continued. "The memory of how it was damaged is ever present; it never goes away. Harry's never asked outright, but I think he knows now as pieces of the memories recently became as much his as mine--" he looked away and said so quietly Ben thought he must have misheard him "--although I never thought he'd invoke them."

Invoke them? Something stirred in the back of Ben's mind, but he pushed it back for the moment, knowing it would come out when it was ready. "But what do you--do--instead?"

"Frottage, oral--things you probably only consider foreplay." A secret thought and a small smile flitted across Severus' face as his eyes glazed momentarily. Something he especially liked to do? Or have done to him? Damn he wished he had the balls to ask. Well, why not? The worst he could do was tell him to go to hell.

"What are you smiling about?"

It had to be a fluke, he must have startled the answer out of him. "Kissing. Harry _likes_ kissing." Then, as if he realised what he'd said, his lips thinned and he remained silent, his stare the equivalent of shaking a finger at him, saying 'Bad boy!' He unexpectedly chuckled. "Surely you've used the physical 'side-effect' of the bond, as you call it, to your advantage before? Even before we were bound, our sex life satisfied."

"Except once?"

Severus hesitated. "We tried three times. Twice when we first got together, once later. It was miserable."

"I'm sorry."

Ben didn't expect the sharp flash of angry impatience that disappeared as soon as it came. But it prepared him for the intensity of Severus' question. "Tell me, Ben, which is more important? The sex or the closeness?"

"Both, I suppose."

"Fair enough. And if you could have only one thing out of your physical encounters, what would you want? That one fleeting moment of orgasm or the hours of contentment that follow?"

That was an interesting question, one he found surprisingly easy to answer. "The contentment."

"Precisely. This is a lesson I've learned from Albus over the last few months as he's weakened. When the body no longer quickens, when the touching and the closeness are all that is remaining, it's all right because _that_ is the part that endures forever. One can touch until one dies, but the sex is only for when one is able to do so." He looked at his tea cup. Ben took it from him. As he poured the water, Severus said quietly, "And when one is like me, unable to participate in what most consider the only way to have 'real sex', to find someone who is not only willing, but prefers not to do it at all is priceless."

His wistful tone added to the thoughts in the back of his head and he began to wonder if this had something to do with the fight Severus was having with Harry. But now was not the time to pursue it. "OK. Assuming I agree with your premise, how can I tell Kalani we're not having anal sex anymore without making him feel inadequate?"

"I've found the unvarnished truth often helps. Might be uncomfortable in the beginning, but in the end?" Was that a joke? "Sorry, didn't mean that quite the way it came out," he said with a rueful smile.

Ben chuckled--didn't think so.

"But who says you have to give it up entirely? Perhaps Harry can refer you to a specialist who can repair the damage and from there you agree to a lesser frequency for Kalani's continued health." When Ben didn't respond, Severus exclaimed in exasperation, "Surely you're not saying that the two of you don't enjoy anything _but_ anal?"

Ben grinned. "Oh, no. There's other--aspects--of sex we both enjoy. I don't know. I think I'm more worried about his reaction to all of it. He's so sensitive about this sort of thing, even after all these years. I mean he's like all of us, he sometimes ties his value and worth as a person to how he perceives his desirability as a mate and partner physically."

Severus looked at him in surprise. "People do that?"

"What? Equate personal worth with physical desirability?" When Severus nodded, Ben added, "Sure. All the time." Ah, he hadn't expected that. "And you don't? What do you base your worth on?"

"What I have done and accomplished, or not; my successes and failures are what build my value as a person."

"Ah, then you are either very lucky, my friend, or very blind. Most of us aren't that strong and need validation from other people--almost like a mirror to see who we are." Severus was leaning towards him, his concentration intense. Could this be the reason? "Are you saying that how Harry views you has zero effect on how you feel about yourself?"

Severus started--got him! "No, of course not, but--"

"'But' nothing. We _all_ do it; some more than others maybe. Which is why I'm worried about Kalani. I'm afraid that if I tell him I don't want to have sex the 'old' way anymore, he won't see the real reasons, but only the ones _he's_ built around it. Kalani's a true bottom. He views his body as a means of expressing affection, of giving me something of himself when he can't say it any other way. I understand what you're saying, and I agree--to a point, but Kalani's young, he's not built his own sense of self-worth and is still partially reliant on the opinions of others, mostly me. To him, my rejection of his body's offerings would be a rejection of his person, _regardless_ of why I feel that way. And with his accident, it's even worse because some of the very things that have defined him over his entire life are now gone. He feels all he has left is his body, for work, for pleasure, for everything now that most of his magic is gone."

"And if no one has helped him define who he is other than in terms of what he can do for them, then a rejection of any part of him would be untenable--and personal. I see that now."

"We're not talking about Kalani anymore, are we?"

Severus glanced at him, his expression sad. "No, I suppose we're not, but--it explains so much. After our--I've always told Harry I didn't want him to bottom, my reasons being that it hurts him, emotionally, and me as well. And when I turned him down--he must have--oh fuck. If that's how he perceives himself--that would be why he keeps bringing it up, why he won't let it go. Damn it!"

"And you can't--because of what happened in the past? With Voldemort?" Severus looked at him sharply but nodded bleakly. "And you haven't told Harry this?" Again, another nod. "Man, you have a problem. Is this what you fought over? You told him 'no' when he asked again?"

"Fairly obvious, isn't it? He wanted to know if the bond would make a difference and what made me angry was that he would not just accept my answer at face value and leave it be."

"No, I suppose he couldn't if he thought you were rejecting _him_ and not the act--or the memories." When Severus said nothing, Ben continued. "You both can't, you both have good reasons, but only one of you really _knows_ why. I have to say this is not a good thing. You know, I'm a big believer in privacy, but you're going to have to address this with him. One cannot escape one's past when it is as much a part of the blood as that which flows from one's parents. And you need to do it soon. A blocked bond is not unusual, but it's not healthy either, especially as new as yours is."

"It seems to me you should follow your own advice and just tell Kalani outright," Severus remarked without rancor.

He couldn't help but smile. Just like Kalani--redirect if you can't answer it. "Yeah, my pot's pretty black isn't it?" When Severus chuckled, he added, "However, having said that, I don't think Kalani's going to be as reasonable about this as your Harry--_he_ at least still has those things that have defined him most of his life. Kalani doesn't anymore. The timing really sucks. I might have a better chance at it in a year or so, but now--?"

"Hmmm. Are you prepared to always bottom then?" Severus chuckled at what he was sure was another of those damned blushes--must be the haole part of him. "Didn't think so."

"Yeah, well--." Ben looked at his watch. Damn, where had the time gone? "I'm really sorry, Severus. I didn't realise we'd been here this long; I need to get back--have classes to teach this afternoon at the Halau."

"No problem. Shouldn't take more than a moment to pack up."

It didn't. Severus gathered all their garbage and banished it while he packed the remainder of the fruit and the other foodstuffs he'd brought. They resaddled the horses and were soon picking their way down the mountain path and in no time had crossed the field. When they were once again walking the horses on the verge, Ben said, "You know, I can always use another set of hands. We've got a festival coming up and some of the parents of my travelling group are coming over to repair some of the equipment and work on costumes. You're welcome to join us."

Severus shook his head. "The offer is kind; maybe later this week, but I think I need to follow my own advice and talk with Harry."

"I have to agree--that's certainly more important."

They fell into silence again until they were almost to the house. "I've been thinking," Severus began, "I don't believe Harry will want to _heal_ Kalani--you're both too much like family to us, but I'm certain he can recommend a specialist as I said before. However, perhaps, if--_when_ Harry and I get this resolved, he can talk to Kalani about whatever his physical condition is, what his choices are, and what can be done. Maybe if it is just the two of them talking about it clinically without all the emotional baggage, he can accept your suggestions better afterwards. Especially if he knows they may be his only options. Then you would be supportive, not dictatorial."

Ben was pleased they considered themselves family and felt a surge of hope. "Sounds like a good idea. Thanks, I would appreciate it."

"No, thank _you_. It's only recently I've thought of such things and I would not have had _we_ not talked."

Ben nodded, it had been enlightening for them both, giving them much to think on. As they approached the house, he saw Kalani's scooter parked to the side; ah well, they would have to return the horses tonight after classes were over. He and Harry were sitting back on the beach much the same way they'd left them only this time, when he and Severus dismounted, their husbands rose from the sand and walked towards them.

Ben could almost feel Severus straining to hold himself in check, to curb the impulse to rush to Harry. He knew he would feel the same way. But what did surprise him, and Kalani, too, was that when the two stood in front of each other, the unexpected embrace was fierce, possessive, beautiful even, but only briefly glimpsed before they Apparated away--into the house he assumed.

Kalani came over and gave him a brief hug. "You're late. Want some help returning the horses?"

"It'd be nice, but what about your scooter?"

Kalani laughed. "It ain't going anywhere. I can always come back and get it later. I'm sure Mom will drag me back over here for one reason or another."

"Probably. Well, c'mon then. I only have an hour or so."

They mounted the horses and walked out of the yard, both men looking at the house as they passed it. "Think they'll work it out?" Kalani asked.

Ben shrugged. "Don't know why not. They love each other, right?"

Chuckling, Kalani replied, "Oh yeah. Harry positively drips da kine once you get him started. You should see what he did to the leg of my table."

"What? Gnaw on it?"

"I wish--may take me days to get the other three to look like it. But I can't complain--seemed to help him."

"Yeah, Severus was out of sorts, too."

"You talk to him like you wanted?"

Ben started and stared at his husband's wise-ass grin. "I'm not blind, Ben--been with you too long to not notice when you're being sneaky. I know you're worried; so was I, but I talked to Harry a little about it."

"And?"

"Well, he said he'd try and find me a healer on O'ahu, but--" he drew a deep breath and let it out on a sigh "--I'm going to have to change my thinking; it's going to be 'different' for a while, I guess. There's not a whole lot of options open and I don't like most of them." He looked off to the side. "Maybe we just need to talk about it. Not my strongest suit, I know, but don't see much of a choice here."

"Kalani? Look at me." Reluctantly his husband did so, his face closed. "It's OK. We'll talk; we'll do whatever you feel is best."

"That's all I ask." He looked back at the house, now in the distance. "Glad we don't have their problems."

"I hear you on that," Ben said, laughing inside.

**.:o:. .:o:. .:o:. .:o:.**

TBC

**.:o:. .:o:. .:o:. .:o:.**

**Definitions:**  
_Awapui_ Zingiber - Shampoo Ginger  
_ad nauseum_ Latin - To the point of nausea  
kapakahi crooked, twisted


	40. Part III : Love is Always Saying You're ...

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Forty : Love is Always Saying You're Sorry**

_Warning: Chapter contains semi-graphic descriptions of violence and rape._

_Edited for FanFiction-net: 107 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods. I apologise if this feels choppy in any way, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site._

**Tuesday 28 October 2003 HST** (Continued)

It felt so right to hold him again, to feel his body pressed tightly against his own. Hearts pounded against each other, seeking a common beat. Lips and tongues caressed while hands held on tightly, fisting clothing, pushing, pulling--trying to fill the emptiness. They struggled to stand from where they'd fallen to their knees, legs having given out under the onslaught of their impatient reunion. Step by step, kiss by kiss, touch by touch, they made their way back to the bedroom, sagging against a wall when their legs threatened to buckle, leaning on the dresser when dizziness threatened to spill them; stopping only to toe off their shoes, they finally tumbled through the open curtains into the downy softness beyond. Side by side, limbs entangled, each kissing the breath out of the other, both suffocating from the raw need--the need to touch, to connect--to bring back to life within them that which was still dead inside.

They stilled, eyes searching the face of the other. Severed, cut off from each other, they were left with only feeble words and touch and sight to express the emptiness and sorrow inside where once lived the wondrous connection they desperately wanted to regain.

"I'm sorry--" was spoken on a whisper, together. "You first--" in unison brought the first small smiles. Silence reigned as both waited for the other, both wanting the other to speak first, both wanting to be heard first; a contradiction as profound as the separation within them.

"I'm sorry." He moved his lover's hair out of his face with tender fingertips.

"I'm sorry, love," he murmured, bestowing a soft kiss to willing lips.

"I shouldn't have--" they said, chuckling weakly as hands drifted and soothed flesh trembling with trepidation.

They both sighed, faces so close they blurred.

"I shouldn't have pried--"  
"I should have told you--"

"--I should have respected your privacy."  
"--I shouldn't have kept it secret."

A kiss bestowed, so tender it made his soul ache; he wanted his lover to know how it felt to him, but he couldn't, not without the bond. And that hurt more than anything else.

They needed to be one again. Could he bring them together? Could he say aloud the things holding him back? Dark eyes closed. "I'm afraid--"

Trailing fingertips across his cheeks and brows compelled him to open his eyes. Soft lips at the corner of his mouth whispered, "Go on, my love--" He couldn't bear to watch.

His eyes fluttered shut. "No, love, let me see."

Another sweet press of lips lovingly encouraged him to try again. "I'm afraid you'll see how ugly I am inside--"

Gentle fingers slid through his hair. He whispered, "Never! I think you are beautiful--_Tibi insum_."

"--and you'll decide you hate me after all--"

A hand cupped his face, quietly demanding he not look away. "_Semper te amabo_."

"--and when you realise what I did--" He faltered.

"_Te apud constanter manebo_."

"--and I'd die if I ever felt that from you." No, he couldn't--his eyes slid away, keeping the illusion.

"Look at me," was whispered, as feather touches of lips nudged his face. Troubled eyes returned to see green ones, bright and shining. "I Love You."

The fear, so strong, receded as his mouth was taken in a loving kiss, light and tender; emerald eyes held his dark gaze, full of promise. Could he? _Non iam solitarius sum_.

"Tell me, love."

_Mihi insum_.

"Please, don't cut me off."

_Tibi insum_.

"Don't walk away from me."

No, he couldn't do that.

"It hurts when you walk away."

Did he really whisper, "It sometimes hurts more to stay."

But to be alone forever? It hurt more than leaving. "I will give you this--" Severus whispered "--myself, my memories." He quietly spoke the spell, "_Legilimens_," and opened his mind, felt it give way as Harry gasped, felt the invasion as his mate sank reluctantly into his memories.

.o0o.

_The beetle crawled along the floor behind his heels; he could see its slow progress as he watched it from between his knees as he huddled in the corner of his father's study. Each time the switch stopped falling on his thin shoulders, the beetle would move a little farther as if knowing that those were the only times it was relatively safe to move._

_"No, Father, no, please no more. I'll be good, I promise!"_

_"Good? You lie! Liars must be punished"_

_The beetle stopped and turned towards his bare heel. He could feel its long antennae tickling his ankle, its tiny legs prickling his skin as it climbed upward, distracting him from the blows bruising his back. He instinctively dodged from a swipe at his head and the beetle fell off, landing onto the floor on its back._

_"I thought you loved me."_

_"You? You are nothing."_

_The beetle struggled to right itself where it lay on the hard stone behind his heel. He tucked himself tighter to get his lips between his knees and blew on it as the pain whistled down his crossed arms. The gust of air flipped the beetle upright and it moved as quickly as its little prickly legs could take it. He watched it move to safety, wishing he could go with it._

.o0o.

Falling, further, deeper. The years sailed by. He could almost hear his husband whimper over the roaring in his ears.

.o0o.

_The beautifully manicured hand callously dug sharp pain, like broken glass, into the newly burned Dark Mark. He didn't know which was worse--the horrible pain throbbing in his arm or the nausea remaining from its inception. Strong hands, once gentle, now inexorably dragged him to the throne where the Dark Lord surveyed all the new recruits, his feral eyes glistening in the torchlight. They made him shudder and not for the first time since he'd come here, he wondered why he was here and how he could get out. "Lucius! What are you doing?"_

_Lucius shook his head, his grip firming on his arm. "You belong to Him now."_

_What did he mean? "Of course, I do. I just took the mark didn't I?"_

_He tried to stop and touch him. Who was this stranger wearing his lover's face. Who was it smiling at him in such contempt when only this morning those same lips had brought such sinful delights to his body, had whispered words of endearment in his ears. "For gods' sakes, why? I did what you wanted!"_

_The world whirled around him as he was thrown to the floor like offal. The toe of a booted foot on his shoulders held him pinned to the floor. "Why, Severus?" Lucius pushed with his foot, rolling him over onto his stomach. "Because you are a valuable coin I can spend."_

_Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his lover, bend his knee to the Dark Lord, his head hung low. "He's yours, my Lord; do as you will--he is not unskillful if one can see beyond his looks."_

_His clothing stripped from him, rough hands hauled him up, standing. "I thought you loved me. How can you do this"_

_The raised brow, the chin lifted in derision. "Love you?" A cruel laugh. "Look at you. Did you think I could ever love someone like you?" The hated cane came up under his chin. "No, I owned you, boy. And now, I've given you freely."_

_Pitiless hands pulled him in front of the Dark Lord. If he shook anymore he would fall apart. A skeletal hand came out from under layers of robes and ran long fingers down his naked body from shoulder to hip. "Yes, Lucius, I see what you mean. So pale, so smooth. He'll do just fine."_

_Silently begging with his eyes. No! Lucius! Please don't leave me here!_

_The look of disdain, feeling love inside shrivel. A hand, strong despite its frail appearance-- "How touching, Lucius. He misses you already." --twisted his head around to look at lust-filled eyes. "On your knees, boy. Show me what you do best on your knees--"_

.o0o.

Wading into the deepest recesses, a pile of jumbled memories. He shrank back from them, willed them away but could not; it was too late.

.o0o.

_The Muggle woman died screaming as the creature ripped through her. Bloody hands held the monstrosity out to him. "Use it, it's fresh."_

_His stomach heaved in protest. "No, never!"_

_He struggled to control his rising gorge as 'The Pet' again tried to hand it to him. "But our Lord wishes the potion. I grew this especially for it."_

_Retching on the floor. "Our Lord can go to hell along with that--that--thing!"_

.o0o.

Horror, not his own, filled him. He felt Harry struggling, trying to pull away.

Oh gods, would he lose his husband, too? End it, idiot! End it now, before he sees your shame.

NO! Even if it meant losing him, he would not back down now. He was committed--_neglegens si magno mihi stetit_--regardless of personal cost.

.o0o.

_The master was so angry._  
_"Use it! Make the potion."_  
_"No, you have my life, you may not have my soul."_  
_Sneering Death Eaters bound him to the posts._  
_"Too late, you fool. I already own you."_  
_Perfunctorily twisting against the bonds. Rape was nothing new after all; this body of his was only a shell. The true difficulty lay in acting at school as if his concerns were as small as the other seventh year infants._

_Fear! The whip cracked on the stone. Oh gods, not this._  
_"Avery, talk some sense into him."_  
_"With pleasure, my Lord."_  
_Whistling pain cracking across his body, blending into such a monotonous undertone, he could almost ignore it. Regardless, he would not yield._

.o0o.

Harry's determination to see it through, no matter how much it hurt, held him captive. If Severus had lived it, had the courage to show it, he would watch it, live it. He was committed--_neglegens si magno mihi stetit_--regardless of personal cost.

.o0o.

_A sibilant whisper in his ear from behind. "You will learn not to defy me, my love."_  
_Pain exploded as the hated body of the Dark Lord forced its way inside him._  
_"It's really quite simple, Severus--"_  
_The body behind thrust as the whip sliced his skin._  
_"--You--are--mine."_  
_Blood ran down his legs._  
_"You will do my bidding."_

_Like knives going in, cutting._  
_Like fire coming out, burning._  
_He bit back the screams._  
_"I will give you a lifetime of retribution for your defiance!"_

.o0o.

They watched, together, lived it again--_Partes capimus et nos adligamus_--taking each part and binding it unto themselves.

.o0o.

_Each stripe precisely split unwilling flesh._  
_"Do as he says."_  
_Each thrust relentlessly split deadening flesh._  
_"Yield to me!"_  
_The resistance was instinctive._  
_"You can only have my body!"_

_Gods, would it never end?_  
_"Make the Potion!"_  
_Torn inside. Deeper. Harder._  
_"No, Master."_  
_Torn outside. Faster. Longer._

.o0o.

Their bond stirred through them, coming to life unnoticed.

.o0o.

_Fingernails digging, slicing ragged furrows in his hips with each thrust._  
_Stroke for stroke they broke him._  
_He was too weak to resist._  
_The words of the curse seared through him._  
_Tendrils of malice ate his soul._

_How much can a person take?_  
_"Mercy, Master!"_  
_The unbidden screams echoed around the chamber._  
_"Oh gods, just stop. Please. I'll do as you ask."_

.o0o.

Their bond wrapped around them, gathering strength from their fortitude and commitments.

.o0o.

_"You lie."_  
_All for nothing. Too late, his capitulation would not save him._  
_"You will regret this the rest of your miserable life."_  
_Shamed, he was too weak to stop the curse._  
_Mortified, too weak to stop the assault of body and mind._  
_Broken, too weak to fight anymore._

_"You will never feel pleasure from this again."_  
_With a cry of triumph, his 'master' took his pleasure from him at his body's expense._  
_"When you least expect it, it will remind you of my penalty for resistance."_

.o0o.

Their bond burned within them, exposing the true nature of the past.

.o0o.

_He ached with the pain of his failure._  
_Sagging against the cruel bindings, almost gone._  
_Surely he'd die, a welcome thing._  
_Whispering to himself as they left him, "But I kept my soul."_

.o0o.

Their bond was relentless in its commission--_Praeterita, praesentem tempum... ad posterum nostrum adligo meo sponte_--to freely bind their past to their present and future. It was ruthless in its honesty. It expected nothing less than they feel it, live it, understand it until they _both_ owned and accepted it--together--regardless of origin, for they were now one--_Unus iam sumus_--one past, one present, one future. It demanded they keep their vows, to take the risk of stepping off the precipice of what had made them and to find the inner strength to catch each other as they fell into their present. And in return, it granted them the peace of mutual absolution and the liberty to move into their future, free of the shackles of the past.

Severus understood this now as the inner vision faded. His forearms hurt from the bruising pressure of the hands holding him there, a pressure he could see he returned, the trembling flesh beneath his hands darkening purple from his own grip. It hurt; he could feel his mate's pain.

_He could feel it._

Harry was crying. "Oh gods, Severus, I'm so sorry, my love. I didn't know--never would have--never made you live that again."

Severus embraced his sorrow, his compassion. His beloved's head was buried in his chest. Severus revelled in his mate's abiding love and knew elation.

But Harry still hadn't found it. His voice was muffled as he said, "I understand. I'm such an idiot. How can you stand it?"

It seemed so simple now. "Because I have you."

_Can you feel it, love?_

Harry lifted a jubilant face to him, happiness and joy shining through the old tears. "_Unus iam sumus_. Oh, Severus! It's back!"

"_Unus iam sumus_, my love, it never went away. We just--forgot it--for a while." He waited patiently for Harry to work out the truth he already knew.

"We had to see, didn't we?" he asked finally, running his hand up Severus' arm. "We're no longer alone, no longer separate?"

Severus nodded. "What belongs to one, belongs to the other. We had to own it to accept it to move past it."

Harry kissed him, a light pressing of lips, filled with a jumble of feelings, all of which Severus could _feel_ coursing through him. It was the most wonderful thing.

His mouth graced with that boyish grin that always made him melt, Harry asked, "We're not going to be doing this every day, are we?"

"Gods, I hope not. I think this was enough to hold us for a while. That is, until the next time--"

"--I get a bug up my arse."

"Something like that," Severus said dryly, moving closer to take Harry in his arms.

Harry murmured, "Probably one of your centipedes," as Severus, smiling, took his mouth in a serious kiss. It felt so right to hold him again, to feel his body pressed tightly against his own, their hearts beating as one. Lips and tongues caressed while hands held on tightly, fisting clothing, pushing, pulling--trying to contain the fullness bursting out of them. Side by side, limbs entangled, each kissed the breath out of the other, both rejoicing in the renewed feel of each other.

Suffusing through them, the bond brought a new peace and freedom. The frantic urge of raw need faded, the kiss deepening to something more. Hands soothed and comforted; thoughts gave way to feelings. No longer separate, no longer alone, no longer restrained by the past. Cherished, they partook of the loving bond within them, fully aware of who and what they were. Together, they accepted wholly their respective limits, understood their choices, knowing that being one _inside_, that sharing _themselves_, was far more important than _how_ they shared their bodies.

They shifted, easing into a position of comfortable familiarity. Tired nips followed their movements, tiny kisses placed wherever lips fell. Severus took Harry's hand where it rested on his chest, and after kissing the palm, placed it firm against him. Harry raised his face for one last benediction, which his husband gladly gave him, one hand luxuriating in his hair, the other lightly touching the vulnerable throat, his lips gentle as he joined their mouths reverently. "You still love me," he whispered in wonder as if he still couldn't believe it.

And as he drifted off, Harry's sleepy, "How could I not," sang him a new lullaby.

**.:o:. .:o:. .:o:. .:o:.**

The sun was galloping towards sunset when Severus woke first, smiling. Harry was sprawled on his stomach next to him, recently moved, the sweaty warmth along his side cooling slowly in the still air. Yes, it was a little warm and humid to be cuddling right now.

He studied the beloved face turned to the side. Harry's lips and cheek were squashed against his nose from the pillow, his hair smooshed on one side and flying wild on the other; he really needed a shave not having done it since they'd arrived, the 'shadow' now a full-fledged darkness. He supposed the whole could be considered comical, but in reality, he found the trusting laxness endearing.

The bond lay open between them, Harry's end bringing sleepy thoughts and hazy images of pleasant dreams. He was relieved; it was--uncomfortable--to be cut off from his mate; the bond had subtly let him know he needed to stop whatever he was doing to push them apart. The only problem was he hadn't done it on purpose. It had just--happened. Unsettling to someone who insisted on personal control in every aspect of his life. Well, maybe it wasn't as involuntary as he supposed. He knew _why_ it happened, just not how.

Which brought him to the other aspect of the bond's presence. When Harry woke, he would not be able to deny the disturbing swirl of determination he'd felt, nor his burning curiosity. Sneaky brat, his Slytherin tendencies were quite maddening at times. Oh, he wouldn't prod too much, not this time, but he would still get his answers. Quite unfair and inconvenient really, especially if Severus didn't necessarily want to go through the inevitable search, but still, Harry's doggedness was another thing to love about him.

Harry stirred next to him, waking thoughts surfacing with half-somnolent images as his dream refused to yield to reality. Severus held still, needing this small time to accept his own decision to let Harry have his way. He didn't want a repeat of yesterday when the bond had fallen in defence. And who was he defending himself against? Harry? Totally absurd all things considered--they were married, for Merlin's sake. He already trusted Harry with more than his life; now he had seen and accepted everything. So what was the problem?

He sighed, the bond again making the suggestion for him that this was Harry's need, not his and, when he accepted it, the peace that followed was as pleasant as it was rare. He'd no more touched the tousled hair, wanting to bury his hand in it, when he found himself held captive by blinking eyes, the green peeking through half-mast lids. Harry rolled over on his side, yawning, a bone cracking stretch followed; Severus smiled at the pillow-crinkles lining one side of his face.

"What's so amusing?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Your face--it's--never mind. Let's just say, I'm feeling exceptionally well right now."

"Hmmm. That's always a good thing," Harry murmured, scooting over. He wrinkled his nose. "You smell like Bella," he said on a laugh. Spelling all of Severus' clothes off, he sniffed delicately. "Much better--now you just smell like--ginger? Where'd you get ginger?"

"Awapui--it's a soap plant and you are seriously overdressed," he replied, smiling, Harry's clothes flying across the room.

They exchanged a few languid kisses, hands passing randomly over unaroused bodies. It felt good, though.

"Um, Severus, you know, I was wondering--"

"Just get on with it," he groused good naturedly, "you won't be satisfied until you do."

"How do you--?" Harry's eyes widened with the image Severus sent him. "Oh. All right then, you do. But you do understand that this is not about what started all this in the first place? Right?"

"Come on, love. You can say it, I know you can." Severus couldn't help but tease him. "Sex. Penetrative sex. Anal sex. Buggery. Fucking. Anything I missed?"

Harry blushed. "No, I think that about covers it. And it's still not about any of them. I just want to see if I can heal it enough to eliminate those attacks you have, now that I know what causes them."

Severus answered him by flipping over on his stomach, a pillow under his arms supporting his head. Of course he would never make an issue that it was Harry's pillow and smelled good.

Trailing his fingers along his lover's back, Harry felt the hidden tension in the muscles under his hand. Feeling a bit guilty, Harry massaged the tightness until Severus was purring, not in a 'you're-making-me-hot' kind of way, but in a 'you're-about-to-put-me-to-sleep' manner. Good.

He fanned his hands out at Severus' waist, his thumbs in the small of his back. Sinking into the pathways, it took him little time to find the physical damage and the curse. As he read the _Schema_ of the scarring, he barely stopped himself from jerking his hands away--it was almost identical to the eyes on Severus' chest. When he tried to tweak it, nothing happened. So he 'dug' deeper. Senses straining, he tried to read the curse still lodged deep within the scars; similar in nature to the curse he'd removed less than a week before, it was different only in form. And old--nearly thirty years old and deeply set, he instinctively knew his skills would never remove it.

Stunned and disappointed, he withdrew. Harry crawled back up the bed to lay down next to his husband. Severus had his head turned away from him; Harry hesitated to troll the bond to find out whether this was just the way he was laying or if he was upset. He extended his arm and tenderly placed it across Severus' back, his hand resting lightly on his nape. "No, Harry, I'm not upset," Severus declared, his voice muffled by the pillow. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Harry sat up, coaxing him to roll over on his back. Straddling him, he bent at the waist, ghosting his lips around the dark eyes that hid such intense emotion behind a piercing gleam. He feathered kisses along the harsh lines framing brows and nose, lines that others believed cruel, but that he saw as stripes of honour which could deepen in delight with just the shadow of a smile. He touched his lips to the mouth which, for others, could purse in disapproval and speak in censure, but for him alone whispered words of love and comfort and, as right now, kissed him blind.

Harry smiled. "Yes, love, I found what I was looking for--right here in front of me. I love you."

Severus closed him eyes tight. "You can't heal it, can you?"

"No." Harry's fingers delicately pushed the hair off his lover's face.

Severus sighed, eyes opening to watch him warily. "And?"

"And what? You have a curse. It hurts you. It hurts me. What else is there to say" His fingers carded through the hair around his lover's temples.

Severus raised a quizzical brow and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, his face thoughtful as he pulled Harry down for another kiss. "I love you," he murmured, their kiss almost chaste. "I suppose I regret you will not get to experience what I have enjoyed. On a purely physical level, sharing your body like that was exquisite, but it's worth nothing if I can't have _you_ along with it."

He moved to lie again by Severus' side, cuddling close. Severus shifted to accommodate him. Harry yawned, settling his head on _his_ spot. His fingers playing with the hairs on Severus' chest, Harry murmured, "I finally understand, love, and I'm sorry I didn't trust you to know what was best for yourself. _Tibi insum_. I already have all I've ever wanted."

Severus' arms came around him, holding him close, a sigh running through his body as if in relief. He knew it would be all right.

A few minutes later, Harry started to chuckle. "I had the strangest dream. The bond looked just like Albus and he was standing in front of a blackboard using his wand to point out all the other body parts we could be 'examining'. Then he chastised us for being stupid about the whole thing and said one would think we would have learned our lesson by now."

Severus squeezed Harry's hand. "Perhaps we needed a refresher course," he said, his own humour showing. "Although the thought of Albus anywhere near our respective body parts--"

Harry raised his head to look at him, his eyes sparkling. "Ewwww. Talk about continuing education. Can't we just skip the class and still get the grade?"

"I don't know," Severus replied drolly. "You'll have to ask the instructor."

Harry laughed. He tugged on Severus until they close together on their sides. He tickled his fingers down Severus' arse as he asked, "Oh, Professor? Can I trade sexual favours for my marks?"

Severus shifted his grip, sliding his hand down Harry's thigh and leg, pulling it over his hip. With a shift of his pelvis he choked out, "I'm not sure, Potter, you've always rubbed me the wrong way."

Harry wiggled against him playfully, earning a strangled cry. "Oooh. Can you show me the right way then?"

Severus did so. "I suppose I could, providing you pay attention."

As he pleasured them, Harry gasped, "Oh! I promise I'll hang onto every--ahhhh--word."

Severus could feel the bond pervading their love-making, enhancing it, as the pure joy his husband felt rode side by side with his own delight. This was what he'd missed most, the sharing, and he spared the thought that perhaps the damn thing knew them _together_ better than they did, before he stopped thinking of anything other than the sensations.

"Ahhh, Sev feeling this way inside ourselves, through you, through me, will always be more satisfying than just being inside our bodies." _:: Oh godsss, I burn. ::_

Severus could only agree. Sensation built on sensation until they shared a perfect moment of passion, _together_, the liberation of body and self and heart so intense it stole the very air from their lungs.

Arms and hands loosened, wrapped around each other, and breath returned as slowly, muscle by muscle, their bodies relaxed, hearts still pounding. Hands caressed and kneaded flesh, bodies tensed when flashes of pleasure shuddered through them unexpectedly as they savoured the closeness their loving had brought them. Later, when all that remained was the loving warmth, Severus dragged Harry half on top of him so they could enjoy some languid kisses, saying it was a myth that he always liked to finish on top. Their hands sliding randomly along satiated skin, the feeling of togetherness continued with short nips of contented lips.

With a gusty sigh, Harry said with some self-deprecation, "I can't believe I'm so stupid at times."

Severus snorted. "While I might have agreed with you when you were a student, I've discovered since then that you have your moments of clarity. What's the problem now?"

"One would think that by now I would know what I want."

"Harry, _Albus_ doesn't fully know what he wants. I think you're being a little hard on yourself."

"Perhaps so, but--"

"But what?"

"I can't help thinking that I should have known that going against a decision so deep-seated as ours would be a bad idea. And while I now know for certain that we'll never experience each other _that_ way, damn, after _this_--gods, it was extraordinary--I have to ask--what's there to miss?" He sighed again. "Perhaps this--joining--will never happen again, although I certainly hope not. Who knows? I'm beginning to think this bond of ours has a mind of its own. Maybe this was its reward to us for a lesson finally learned?"

Severus chuckled as he ran his fingers down Harry's cheek. Softly kissing him, he said, after Harry had settled into _his_ spot, "I think you can move to the head of the class now."

**.:o:. .:o:. .:o:. .:o:.**

TBC

**.:o:. .:o:. .:o:. .:o:.**

**The Vows (by Alpha):**  
_Mihi insum_ :: I am a part of myself  
_neglegens si magno mihi stetit_ :: regardless of personal cost  
_Non iam solitarius sum_ :: I am no longer alone  
_Partes capimus et nos adligamus_ :: We take each part and bind it unto ourselves  
_Praeterita, praesentem tempum... ad posterum nostrum adligo meo sponte_ :: My past, present... I freely bind to our future  
_Semper te amabo_ :: I will love you always  
_Te apud constanter manebo_ :: I will steadfastly stand by your side  
_Tibi insum_ :: I am a part of you  
_Unus iam sumus_ :: We are now one

**.:o:. .:o:. .:o:. .:o:.**

Author's Note:  
While I do not normally indulge in such things, I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to my betas **Aseneth**, **Delphi**, and **Lydia Lovestruck** for their endless support and tireless patience in reading, and rereading these last three chapters, which as a triad, form the cornerstone and foundation of the entire series. If you 'see' them, you might want to let them know their efforts are greatly appreciated.

And to you, dear readers, thank you for your support as well. I Got Tired of Waiting


	41. Part III : Endowments

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Forty One : Endowments**

_Edited for FanFiction-net: 1,498 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods. I apologise if this feels choppy in any way, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site. Also FF-net is doing wierd things to the formatting, so it may not look right - DARN THEM!_

**Wednesday 29 October 2003 HST**

"Aia, Uncle Albus!" an unfamiliar voice called urgently from the roof, "Hu-i, man, you gonna be shark bait tomorrow, you wake them up!"

The querulous voice wasn't particularly loud, but it _was_ close. They could hear it, and its owner, move towards the front door from the side as he groused, "But... it's after 11:00."

A woman's voice, hissing yet strident, called out, "Albus Dumbledore! Get back here!"

"Eh, you tell him, Auntie!" another voice floated down.

"They were expecting us," the old man grumbled, "and I really want to talk to Severus."

"Al-bus! You're so impatient. It _can_ wait until you get back to Hogwarts. Leave it be for at least a small while. If you wake them up..."

"Too late," Severus rumbled, one open eye glaring out the window.

"...I'll shrink your baggage."

Harry chuckled. "Oooo... that'll keep him quiet for a while."

Severus commented dryly, "Only if she really does it, and where would be the fun in that?" He reached for his wand. "I, on the other hand, have no such..." He never got to finish as he was peremptorily pulled back into the bed.

"Get away from that lanai, old man... they'll come when they're ready."

"Now there's a thought," Harry commented slyly, running tickling hands up Severus' sides. "Are you?"

"Am I what?" Severus replied distractedly, obviously listening to Poppy's harangue and the comments from the roofers, a small smile on his lips.

"Ready to come." When Severus didn't reply, Harry firmly framed his face with both hands and tugged it around to look at him. "Love, there are two witches, four wizards, and three Muggles out there. Surely they can keep the old bugger occupied while _we_ amuse ourselves."

Sleep heavy eyes stared at him. "Harry, I'm not sure I _can_..."

He ran a finger lightly across the tempting lips. "Hush. I know, I felt it the last time. I was thinking of trying something...different."

"That's frightening," Severus murmured, rolling them over to steal a long, sloppy kiss.

Harry moaned; his lover was doing that... thing... again; his body felt like it was about to explode out of its skin.

Urgently pressing together, he felt some of his ardor cool when it became clearly evident Severus wasn't responding in quite the same manner that he was. And after the last few days, who could blame him? The bond-lust had driven them so far beyond any normal limits, it was a wonder they felt anything at all. However, it _did_ make for some _interesting_ experiments; he had one of his own he wanted to conduct... especially in light of Severus'... condition.

It wasn't easy, but he managed to bank the fire coursing through him andsoon succeeded inchanging burning to languid as the kiss became kisses, Severus' mouth pursuing his as he pulled away.

"Now, none of that," he murmured, evading another one of those drugging kisses. He chuckled as dark eyes opened, dazed and questioning. "You're redirecting my attention... quite nicely, I admit, but I had something a bit more leisurely in mind for _your_ pleasure this morning."

"Harry..."

He loved the way Severus arched his long neck, loved the transition between prickly morning stubble to smoother skin.

"Oh. I..."

The clavicle was also very nice, the skin silky and cool. He nosed his way down, his breath stirring the fine hairs on Severus' chest.

"This is _not_ fair..."

Perhaps not, but, oh! how he liked it when Severus growled.

"Ah! Feels so good, but..."

Working his way down the slender torso, he traced the muscles clenching firmly under the soft skin.

"I can't..."

"Oh, I'm _very_ sure you _can_," he murmured. Merlin, Severus was _so_ sensitive; he liked the sensations he left on his husband's skin.

Severus grunted. "Hmph. I was not referring to whether or not it _could_. I _was_, however, referring to whether or not I _should_... again. I'm quite... tender."

Harry shook his head. "Well, we'll just have to make it all better with a little 'tender' loving care, won't we?"

"Good gads!" Severus groaned. "Two insufferable pricks in one morning."

Harry grinned, unrepentant, and proceeded, with much success he thought, his _experiment_ on his, soon, all too willing husband.

Much later, Harry asked smugly, "Liked that, did you?" as he crawled back up to join his lover, replete with more than just mere physical satisfaction. Severus rolled over to face him and, taking his mouth in a languid kiss, tugged with arms and legs to pull him close.

"Good gods, what was that?" Severus finally gasped, his questing lips kissing the corner of Harry's mouth.

Harry chuckled, pulling back enough to bring the sated face into focus. "Well, I'm not quite sure. I was curious to see if I could... you know... without... aggravating your... tender... sensibilities." Hesitating, he asked, "It _was_ all right, wasn't it?" suddenly unsure.

Severus kissed him softly and whispered, "It was extraordinary."

"Good, I'd hate to have..."

"Albus! Damn it, man! Get. Back. Here."

Harry chuckled. "Guess we'd better 'come' out to see him..."

Severus pulled him closer so he could lazily nuzzle his throat and shoulder with small nips.

"...or not," he murmured, arching his neck, offering a larger canvas on which Severus could ply his agile talents.

After all, who was he to disturb such 'tender' ministrations?

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

They were out on the beach waiting for them. Or at least he assumed the old man, sitting pensively in a squat chair in the sand, was Albus. Had to be... no one else would be caught dead in those... well, he supposed they qualified as clothes as they covered the embarrassing bits... a lurid aloha shirt (complete with pink flamingos and swaying palm trees) flapped loosely in the soft breeze while knobby knees, topping the palest, skinniest legs Severus had ever seen, poked out of red Madras plaid Bermuda shorts. A mound of sand marked where the long feet were buried up to the bony ankles. Next to him, Poppy was similarly dressed, albeit a little more tastefully, their brown leather sandals set neatly on the other side of the Lauhala mat she sat on.

"Well, you old reprobate, I'd 'heard' you'd arrived in one piece," Severus remarked as Harry knelt to kiss Poppy's proffered cheek. He casually laid a large blanket out on the sand near the headmaster, placing a flat beach chair precisely in the middle back leaving ample room for his long legs to stretch out without touching the black sand. He glanced at the silent man, confounded that Albus had not replied. Probably sulking, if he had to guess.

While Severus prepared their spot, Harry knee-walked over to Albus, ostensibly to give him a hug from behind, but everyone knew he was really checking to see if his patient was all right. Obviously satisfied, he reached around and gently tugged on the long beard. "Hey, what's this?" he asked, holding its neatly plaited length up for inspection.

Albus pursed his lips, sliding a mock glare at Poppy as he mumbled, "Made me braid it to keep it from blowing in my face."

Severus nodded with approval. "More than likely, she needed a leash," he chortled.

No one really heard what Albus muttered under his breath, but it was generally _understood_ what he said.

The early afternoon was quite pleasant, not too warm, the azure sky dotted with tiny clouds far out over the ocean. While Harry found out from Ben that Kalani was at his shop for the day, Severus grunted as the familiar hands, cool with sunscreen, rubbed his nape and throat, then slid over his exposed arms, working the slick coconut scented stuff all the way down to his fingers. His hand was turned over and a dollop poured into it. Bending over, he rubbed the potion quickly onto his legs and feet while Ben explained that 'the boys' who had been roofing that morning had already gone home for the day.

"I see Joseph found some more potion," Severus commented to Ben as he returned the favour to the back of the bare-chested body settling comfortably in front of him between his legs. If he spent a bit more time than was strictly necessary to work the sun block into the satiny skin, he suspected he would be forgiven.

"Made some more yesterday," Ben remarked quietly, settling back on his elbows, half-reclining on another mat to the side. "He and Malia went home to finish up some potions for the clinic."

Ben tipped his head back, his face blissful in the sun and, admiring the long, muscled length of him stretched out so gracefully, Severus couldn't help but think him a beautiful man. When he turned his head forward to stare at the water, he caught Harry's small smile on his face as he twisted around to look at him and, with the benign image he received, knew his husband didn't mind his thoughts. "Remind me to thank him. Even if the Muggle lotion he sent yesterday worked, this is much more pleasant."

"He'll be glad to hear you say so," Ben murmured distractedly. "They'll be by later this afternoon with dinner. Oh, and before I forget, is it OK if my touring group comes over here tomorrow night for their practice...thought you guys might like to watch since you enjoyed it so much the last time you were here. The kids'll enjoy it, too. It's a lot more fun dancing at night on the beach, especially since they won't the night after... they'll be too busy trick or treating."

Seeing Harry's nod, Severus replied, "Certainly, Ben. Er, what's 'trick or treating'?"

Sitting up, chuckling, he brushed sand off his legs. "Halloween. It's a big deal here. Joseph said he wanted to talk to you about it... he's got some great ideas about decorating this place if you're interested in adding it to the 'Obake Tour'." He glanced at Poppy, who shrugged. "Are you staying for Halloween, Uncle?"

Albus, who had been unusually quiet throughout the exchange, looked startled at being addressed. He glanced at Poppy again before replying, "Yes, my boy, we decided we'll Portkey back to Hogwarts that morning for the feast and then return afterwards to enjoy the evening's festivities here."

Ben smiled warmly, obviously pleased. "Good! You going to haunt here or at Malia's?"

"We'll stay here... that is if Harry and Severus want to join in. It is a bit strange from what I've heard," Poppy replied for them both, her eyes straying to her husband sitting next to her; the shade from the umbrella propped up behind her almost hid her concern.

Albus? Quiet? The silence strained. This was ridiculous. "Is something wrong, Albus?" he asked a bit more harshly than he'd intended.

The almost guilty glance to him and away was warning enough for the quietly spoken, "The Board of Governors turned down our request for the Apprenticeship Program. They claim there's just not the funding."

Twice damned... short-sighted... addlepated... "Idiots!" he exclaimed. "First they deny us more masters and now? For the same reason? Damn it! The school has twice the students it did four years ago; do they honestly expect us..." Harry's quiet hand squeezing his knee got his attention. "And why the hell am I yelling at you? I am sorry; I know you tried."

"So am I, my dear boy, so am I. The problem, I think, is that we are not the only ones hoping to get a few much-needed assistants with such a program. I suspect the private sector's demands for qualified NEWT-level students is more responsible for the denial than the 'funding'. And as the increases in pupils are almost all in the lower levels..." he sighed "...and you already know this."

Ben spoke up, clearly perplexed. "I always thought Hogwarts was a very small school. What's happened?"

Severus sighed. "It used to be. When Harry was a student, we had, at most, 300 or so. That number has almost doubled in the last four years... and it's growing, I might add." He exchanged a guarded glance with Albus. "And some of them, even in the lower levels, are much... older."

"That's not as small as I thought, but still... not so large. The local school has at least that many and, on O'ahu, some of the private schools number in the thousands."

Bristling a bit, even though he knew Ben meant no insult, Severus explained further. "Ah, perhaps it would put it into the _proper_ perspective if you knew there are six primary subjects, each with only one master... one of whom is a ghost, eight elective instructors, and, including Albus, four support staff. Of the six of us, four are also heads of house, which entails other duties as well."

Ben pulled his head back, trying hard not to smile. "A ghost? Aia! I think maybe you're beyond desperate." He turned to Harry with a broad grin. "Sounds cool, ya?"

Harry chuckled as if recalling fond memories. "The only thing Professor Binns was good for was a nap after a night of mischief, half of which was usually spent dodging the sneaky 'I-get-my-jollies-taking-points-from-Gryffindor' Potions master..." he rolled his eyes back to look at his husband "...or 'It's-a-shame-they-banned-torture' Filch and his mangy cat, Mrs. 'I-took-my-last-bath-when-Filch-did' Norris. Oh, and Binns taught a mean Goblin Rebellion of sixteen-whatever-it-was; that was _so_ fascinating." As the others laughed, Severus took some judicious liberties with Harry's sides... sneaky, indeed.

Ben winked at Harry before turning laughing eyes to Severus. "I see what you meant about troublemakers." When Severus snickered, Ben asked, "So what does all this mean?"

"It means that in any given week I have to teach twelve classes, seven of them doubles... over six levels... to 443, for the most part, uninterested students who couldn't write a coherent essay if their lives depended on it."

"Good grief!" Ben exclaimed, shaking his head. "Here I thought _I_ had it bad. Our Halau is one of the largest on this side of the island with 142 students on four levels of _hula kahiko_ and two of _hula 'auana_, but Kalani, and a couple of volunteer parents, help share with the teaching and equipment preparation... especially when we travel."

Somewhat mollified by the shock in Ben's voice, Severus continued, "Ah, but it gets worse. Assuming three quarters are 'average' (and I use _that_ term loosely) there still remains a full quarter who are either above or below average. The tendency of the other staff, although I do not subscribe to it, is to leave the above-average children alone assuming they are a 'teaching' resource for half the below-average students, which still leaves, more or less, fifty-five remaining who are having difficulty in their studies. On average, I have two dozen students a week come to me with questions or for extra tutoring, which, I admit, I discourage."

Taken aback, Ben asked, "Why is that?"

Severus sighed and held up an elegant hand, ticking off the points. "I have to budget thirty hours teaching, fifteen for remedial tutoring, twenty-five are required for the Head Table and Slytherin House matters, and thirty are spent grading papers and tests... that makes one-hundred hours or more for work. As there are only 168 in the entire week, that leaves me, on average, nine hours per day for the odd extra tutoring, my own education, making potions for the school, research, and upon rare occasion, sleeping..."

"Um, aren't you forgetting something?" Harry asked, shifting sideways and turning his head to waggle his brows at him.

Severus raised a brow, supremely amused.

Harry chuckled. "Your teaching schedule makes me look like a man of leisure."

Snorting, Severus replied, "Right. Harry Potter, Sugar-baby."

Harry sniggered. "And that makes you, what?"

"Over-worked, grossly underpaid, and severely underappreciated. In short, a teacher," Severus replied drolly.

Ben laughed with the rest of them, the tension easing as was, no doubt, Harry's intent; he wasn't the only 'sneaky' one in this relationship. "And as head of house, you have to see to your student's personal needs?" When Severus nodded, he continued, "It must be difficult having all those young people with no parents on hand to guide them."

Actually, it was more like having to herd a pride of randy cats taking gross advantage of parental absence, but with a great effort, Severus managed to leave his personal opinions unvoiced. Instead, he stated, "My purpose as head of house is primarily that of ensuring the safety of the students under my charge. I do not have the time, nor the inclination, to 'mother' them." He pinched Harry's side for the snort he made at this last comment.

Surprise etched on his long, mobile face, Ben asked, "Surely you and the staff feel _some_ responsibility towards the children's day-to-day emotional needs?"

Time to set the record straight; Severus stiffened and declared firmly, "Hogwarts is _not_ a primary school, our First Years are _not_ infants to be coddled. They come to us laden with whatever baggage their families and heritage have given them. As teachers, our primary purpose is to educate diverse young persons in the proper _adult_ usage of their magical powers. Nothing more, nothing less."

Warming to the subject, he continued, "As to their 'emotional needs', as you say, there are rules established to this end... rules that, if obeyed, teach self-control and build positive character. Hogwarts is about peers, about learning to _live_ in harmony with others of a like mind and to learn the means to peacefully coexist with those with whom one cannot agree in a setting that is both safe and fair. On rare occasions, students will approach their head of house with a problem and we earnestly endeavour to give them the tools to solve it themselves."

"Hmmm. I see your point, to a degree, but it seems a little cold to me," Ben remarked quietly. "However, given how little time you have and how many students there are, I can also see where the attitude and policy are necessary. Pity, though. Children do so much better with even just a little affection from those who guide their lives."

Silencing his husband's heated retort with soft strokes to his leg, Harry asked, "Albus?" When the headmaster turned his attention to him, Harry continued, "Did they deny the program or did they just deny the necessary funding?"

Albus gazed at him thoughtfully. "An interesting way to phrase the question, Harry." He tapped his lip with his finger, his eyes glazed. A few minutes later he refocused, saying, "Hmmm. They did _not_ say we couldn't have the program itself, they only denied us the money to support it."

"How many apprentices were the various masters looking to take on?" he asked. Severus could feel his excitement and wondered what the hell his devious Gryffindor husband was up to.

Without hesitation, Albus replied, "Ten. Minerva wanted two, Filius one. Binns requested one, Remus two, and Pomona one." He nodded at Severus. "Our crusty friend here applied for three."

"That's less than I thought, overall," Harry murmured, glancing at Ben who was watching the proceedings with unconcealed interest. He turned his regard quickly back to Dumbledore, but not before Severus saw the calculation in his eyes. "Arthur?" he asked.

Dumbledore answered, "_He_ said 'the continued well-being of the school is not a Ministry affair', and therefore, is out of his sphere of influence."

"Really?" Harry asked. When Albus nodded, Harry shook his head. "Bit stupid that, considering you're educating all of his future voters." He leaned forward, his eyes intent on the headmaster. "Look, you figure out a way to get around the Board of Governors, and _I'll_ endow it."

Albus looked as stunned as Severus felt. Even Poppy's mouth hung open. Ben just grinned as Severus, almost sputtering, said, "Harry! You can't..."

A hand covered his mouth, cutting him off. Resisting the urge to bite it, he calmly returned the gaze of the devilish green eyes with their passable imitation of his own sceptical, raised brow. "I can, and you know it. There's got to be a reason for the pile rotting in my vault. The cost of ten apprentices won't even dent the obscene amounts of Galleons people feel it necessary to pay me for my services." Then he grinned. "However, if you feel _that_ strongly about it, you can always 'pay' me back." He waggled his brows and said in a low voice. "Unless, of course, you'd rather freeze your arse off in your study, alone, grading all those thought-provoking, well-written essays of which you are so fond, while I rest comfortably in our nice snuggly warm bed?"

As far as extortion went, it wasn't bad. "Why you..."

Harry murmured, "What can I say? I'm a selfish prick. Speaking of which..." Louder, he added, "I think I will call it the DSP Foundation."

They all looked puzzled until Ben ventured, "Dumbledore's Scholarship Program?"

Chuckling, Harry answered, "Close enough." Leaning over with that devilish gleam, he whispered in Severus' ear, "Actually, I was thinking more on the lines of 'Dead Sexy Prick', but if it keeps them happy..."

Stunned, Severus could only stare. He opened, then closed his mouth, a quirk forming at the corners. "Wicked boy," he whispered.

Poppy interrupted Harry's reply. "Severus, you're thinking of apprenticing Artemis Young?"

Ignoring the chortle coming from next to him, he replied, "He's first on my list. Quite gifted at potions."

Disappointed, she said, "Somehow, I _knew_ you were going to say that. I'd wanted to apprentice him myself... he has quite the knack. However, anyone _you_ praise..."

"Well, why don't you just share him," Harry suggested, "like you did me?" With Poppy's sparkling glance at Severus and the answering snort, Harry blushed and smacked Severus on the knee, exclaiming, "You _know_ what I meant! Share, not '_share_'."

Harry huffed at Severus', "He's not my type," and the other's laughter.

If Severus was surprised at the wave of possessiveness emanating from his mate, he forbore to mention it, although that didn't stop him from wallowing in it. Listening with only half an ear to Harry and Albus discuss some of the details, he could feel a hidden tension Harry had been harbouring loosen as the two of them negotiated a solution. He stayed well away from it, knowing they both needed such simple intercourse to start mending their strained relationship. Eventually, paying more attention, he felt a keen sense of pride that Harry was holding his own against the wily headmaster and, as they concluded their discourse, his eyes met Poppy's; he suspected his own reflected the satisfaction shining out of hers.

In better spirits, they settled back in their respective spots, their silence comfortable as they soaked up the sun-warmth in skins more accustomed to winter's chill. After Ben left to go to his afternoon classes, Albus' head drooped, his body relaxing into a sound sleep. Sighing with what he took to be relief, Poppy quietly adjusted the umbrella so they both had some shade and then picked up a Muggle paperback with a picture on the front of a couple entwined in what looked like a truly uncomfortable position for what they were supposedly doing. Squinting, he could just make out the title... "Sweet Savage Passion" ...and chuckled at the strange sight of the old woman reading what was obviously a tawdry romance novel.

Sighing in contentment, Harry settled back against his chest, his messy hair tickling his chin. It took no effort at all to wrap long arms around the relaxed body in front of him, even less to rub his cheek across the soft strands. He shifted to set Harry snug against him. Lulled by the ebb of the surf and the even breathing of his napping husband, Severus' eyes drifted shut, but not to sleep. No, he had a lifetime to sleep, but maybe only once to savour this particular sweet feeling inside him right now, one of those 'forever moments' Harry was always going on about, but he'd never really understood. Until now. And with the recognition came the realisation that his life with Harry had been full of such moments, only now seen.

"'S'nice, isn't it?" Harry murmured turning slightly so he was curled into Severus' chest.

"Hush, love, go back to sleep," he whispered, kissing his forehead.

"Nah, don' wanna waste it," he replied sleepily, his words slurred. He snuggled closer. "Wanna keep it."

He felt his hand lifted, the soft lips pressing a kiss to the back of it and wished for an instant they were back in the house so he could pull his Harry closer and tangle their bodies as tightly _together_ as this moment.

But only for an instant... the moment was perfect just as it was.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

TBC


	42. Part III : Diminishing Returns : revised...

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Forty Two : Diminishing Returns**

_Edited for FanFiction-net: 220 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods. I apologise if this feels choppy in any way, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site._

**Thursday 30 October 2003 HST**

After hours of almost obsessive observation, Harry decided it was _not_ his imagination; Severus and Albus were avoiding interacting with each other. He'd tried to pinpoint a reason for their stodgy formality but only succeeded in discovering he wasn't the only one who'd noticed the estrangement; Poppy kept a close eye on them as well, her frequent sighs and rolling eyes a sure sign she was as concerned as he was.

It had started yesterday afternoon with Albus' almost brooding silence. At first, he'd thought perhaps the old man was sulking and trying to make them feel guilty because of their delay in greeting him. The swift glances over the top of his spectacles, aimed at Severus when he wasn't looking, reminded Harry of Aunt Marge's bulldog, Ripper, who (when he was mad at her) would follow her from room to room (with the most horrid paint-peeling farts) and sit in a corner (where she could easily see him) just so he could conspicuously ignore her.

But Harry quickly discarded that notion. Albus was absentmindedly jovial to the Hana folk, and affectionately cordial to him, but to Severus? No, whenever Severus happened near, the bland civility (when there were any words at all) lacked its normal - spark; the little digs, the really bad puns, the _twinkling_ just wasn't there.

And Severus' response? He was being stiffly polite and considerate - when he spoke to the old man at all. That was just - wrong - and Harry felt like someone had tilted the spin on his own private world. No sarcasm? No stinging little comments twizzing between the two of them? No insults? No barbs? Not even the occasional 'old bugger'? Harry didn't understand; Severus was his usual wicked self with everyone else - except Albus.

It was like someone had sucked all the joy out of their encounters. Something was - what did Kalani call it? - kapakahi? - and no one was talking. So, his comfort level falling with each strained hour, Harry had made it his personal crusade to discover what the hell was going on.

Was something wrong with Albus? Something he'd missed? The surreptitious check on the beach yesterday, together with a quick word with Poppy later, not to mention Albus' huge appetite last night and again this morning, had gone far to reassure Harry it wasn't the old man's health - in fact, he looked better than he had in months. And the business with the apprentices didn't seem, well, worrisome enough to warrant the almost despondent behaviour Albus displayed. Besides, he'd thought their solution had smoothed all but the smallest details, ones they'd both agreed to address on their return to Hogwarts. So it wasn't that.

Perhaps the problem lay with Severus? Using his obvious advantage, he'd unashamedly trolled their wide open bond but found nary a twinge of discomfort; no negative reactions, no hidden anger, nothing untoward caught his attention - not even when they were touching while Albus was nearby. It was as if that part of Severus was dead to him.

Harry was not overly fond of mysteries and so, with his customary impatience, he'd resorted to dropping little hints and prods throughout the evening, hoping he could pry the reason out of his taciturn husband. When subtlety failed, the eventual bald question had earned him a raised brow and that certain light in Severus' eyes, clearly telling him to back off; Harry hadn't pushed. Other than that one brief glare, the remainder of their evening alone had been peaceful and easy, their loving slow and tender; Severus had slept well and dream-free, something to celebrate had Harry only been able to follow him.

This morning had been far worse. Having tossed and turned most of the night in a restless slumber, he'd succumbed to exhaustion an hour or so before dawn. Later, chased by a strange, unformed dream, he'd awakened abruptly, his heart pounding in alarm as his questing hand found only a cold and empty spot where a warm, sleepy body should have resided. Quickly crawling out of the bed, he'd hastily pulled on a pair of sleep pants before leaving to find Severus.

Harry didn't bother looking through the house; he'd known there were only two places his spouse used in Hana whenever he needed to think. And he'd been right; Severus had glanced at him as he came out the front door to the lanai. "Ah, you're awake already. You seemed - restless - last night - thought I'd let you sleep a while longer."

Harry gazed over the rail at the sullen ocean beyond. "I'm thinking the bed won't let me sleep in it alone for any length of time - regardless of the reason."

"Mmph. Forgot about that. My apologies."

"For what? Letting me sleep in?" What was with the formality? Why was Severus still not _looking_ at him. And where was his morning kiss? Now upset in a personal way, he'd blurted, "Severus, what's going on?"

"Nothing, Harry," he'd replied, his voice curiously flat.

Harry stared and, with determined purpose, sat down next to him on the bench. "Want to talk about 'nothing'?" he'd asked quietly, consciously holding back the hand creeping out to touch his husband quite by habit.

"No, there's 'nothing' to say." His lip curled a little in a mock smile.

Not to be deterred, Harry chuffed, "Ah - so, 'nothing' is wrong?"

"No, nothing."

"But 'nothing' is right, either?" he'd pressed gently.

"Everything is fine!" Severus had exclaimed with exasperation.

That tore it! So much for being the understanding half of this relationship. "Oh, good. That makes me feel ever so much better," Harry had said with heavy sarcasm. "I'm so glad to hear that waking alone (on my honeymoon I might add) bereft of companionship, my 'good morning', or even a small kiss is 'nothing' to worry about." He'd stood abruptly. "Your _civility_ leaves me swooning." With that, he'd stomped back into the house, the screen door slamming behind him.

He'd almost made it to the bedroom when he'd been abruptly swung around by a hand snagging his shoulder. The arms of the hard body he'd slammed into wrapped firmly around him, holding him close. As Harry wriggled his arms free to hold the slender waist, Severus nosed his hair, murmuring, "I'm sorry. I'm not exactly pleasant company this morning, am I?"

Harry tipped his head back. "Severus, I've _seen_ you 'unpleasant' in the morning and this is not it." Curling his head on Severus' chest, he'd let their bond wash over him, surprised he felt nothing but affection and contrition from his mate. Where was it - the other thing bothering him - whatever it was? "This - this is something entirely different..." He'd lifted his head, begging with his eyes to just tell him.

Looking back on it with a small smile, he supposed he should have anticipated his husband's redirecting nature when, with a whispered, "Good morning, love," that mouth descended on his softly, slowly, as Severus locked them together in one of _those_ kisses, one that effortlessly made Harry's blood molten and his body boneless.

Helpless to do more than submit to his mate's sure touch, Harry could only mewl, his body quivering as he rode the passion building within him, between them as the greedy mouth possessed him, consumed him until the only thing that existed, had ever been, was _their_ mouth, _their_ body, _their_ pleasure flowing freely through them. Afterwards, sweet and slow, the lingering sensations left behind a heavy satisfaction.

Harry didn't know how long they stood like this, _together_, savouring the soft familiarity of their loving; it was always better this way, somehow more binding than all the earth-shattering pinnacles they'd reached in the last few days, although those had been splendid as well. He could feel Severus' mutual relief as he murmured, "I hope you found that..." his lips languidly caressed Harry's swollen ones in short, soothing nips "...a tad more satisfactory." He loosened his hold enough to lightly scratch Harry's back while mumbling their cleaning spell.

Harry shivered at the tender touch and almost purring, said, "It was more than a bit of all right." With a grin, he added, "Apology accepted."

With a small smile and a whispered, "Cheeky brat," hot in Harry's ear, Severus moved lower to nuzzle his neck before pulling away. Taking his hand, they'd turned to go back into the bedroom but stopped when the door to the guest rooms (added under the cover of dark by Severus and Joseph the night before) unexpectedly opened and Poppy came sauntering into the room. With a startled squawk, she patently ignored their partial state of undress, muttering something about breakfast as she beat a hasty retreat into the pantry.

Harry had shook his head in amusement, saying with a chuckle, "I suppose we should be getting cleaned up and dressed?"

"Indeed," was Severus' only regretful reply.

After another small kiss, Harry took the shower first; while Severus had bathed, Harry quickly got dressed and joined Poppy in the kitchen.

A cheery Albus had soon joined them. It didn't take long for him to get scolded, his hands lightly smacked by Poppy with a spatula as he'd tried to steal bits of pepper and cheese off the counter when she supposedly wasn't looking. Not that this stopped him; Harry had to look away, grinning, when Albus started trying to steal more than food as Poppy had danced around his more amorous attentions with a half-scandalized, "Albus! Stop that!"

Harry mixed the eggs in the bowl for her; setting it aside, he'd just placed the milk back in the icebox when he heard an almost jaunty, "Smells good in here," coming from their bedroom door. Unfortunately, that was about all he'd heard other than a subdued, "Good morning," aimed at the old man standing frozen in surprise at the counter. Good lord, what had Albus expected? That Severus had left during the night?

It had gone downhill from there, the only remaining conversation being between Poppy and Harry as they'd finished making breakfast, which had turned out to be a silent, awkward affair. If it weren't so serious, Harry could have almost found some humour as the two men rose from the table simultaneously, both intent on reading the paper on the lanai. They'd silently split the paper, Severus going to the side door with the front sections, while Albus went out the front door with the sports and comics.

As she'd gathered the dishes, Poppy watched them depart in stony silence, her tongue clicking against her teeth.

Enough was enough; supremely tired of the whole sordid mess, Harry had wanted answers. "Poppy, what's up with those two? And please, don't tell me everything is fine, all right?"

Spelling the dishes to wash in sink, she'd turned back to him with a calm shrug. "It's nothing to do with us, my dear. It's strictly between them, something old they need to work out eventually."

Oh, that had made everything _so_ much clearer. "Not to push or anything," he began, "but why now? Why here? Why not earlier or later or elsewhere?"

Poppy sighed and, sitting at the table, had motioned Harry to do the same. She stared at nothing for quite a while before asking, "Harry, how long have Severus and Albus known each other?"

All right, they were going to take the long way around it - as usual. Harry remembered rolling his eyes as he'd done the math. "Assuming his time as a student? Thirty-two or so years."

"A little longer, but that's unimportant. And how long did Severus serve the Order?"

"Um, twenty five years?"

"Close enough." She played with the salt shaker, spilling some on the table. Running her finger through the pile, she'd mused, "Do you realise that in all that time, they've never been out of Hogwarts together except - professionally?"

Well, no - it had never occurred to him and as he was about to say so, she'd continued. "I'm quite certain that if you think on the events of the first twenty years, the four that followed it, and more recent events, you'll figure out why they can't really talk to each other right now."

Well, that _had_ gone a small way to explaining the 'why' of it. But still... "I'm afraid I don't understand. If Severus didn't want to talk to Albus, why did he suggest we invite him out here?"

"I didn't say he didn't _want_ to, I said he _can't_. There is a difference you know, and as to why Severus invited him?" Rising from the table, she'd replied with quiet dignity, "He did it for you." Without another word she'd left Harry alone, the front door closing softly behind her.

Astonishment might be the closest word to describe what he'd felt at her declaration. Then he'd thought that perhaps he finally had a starting point with Severus, so he'd gone to join his husband out on the side lanai.

That had been several hours ago. Having at last received a straight answer to his straight question, he now knew (with heartfelt gratitude) why Severus had insisted they invite Albus out to Hana, but he still wasn't any closer to figuring out how he could help with the other issues.

Poppy's words meandered through his mind and he thought he understood; if Severus' dreams and the little bits he'd talked about were any indication, his stint as a spy and servant to two masters had been horrible, and Harry knew from personal experience that Albus had always been at the heart of the effort. Given his own lingering resentment towards the old man as to how _he_ had been used, both then and now, he couldn't begin to imagine how outraged Severus still felt - and he wasn't certain it was his place to even try and find out. Perhaps, as Poppy had intimated, the best course for him to pursue was no course - let Albus and Severus worry about it. It was, after all, their history and their problem and wasn't affecting _him_ all that much other than little things like this morning. But - no, it was best he leave it alone - even if he didn't want to.

Uneasy, he sat next to Severus on a beach chair under the dubious shade of a half-grown Hau tree, its tall tangled broomstick-like roots protecting them from the rather stiff breeze this afternoon coming in from the mountains. Not too far away, Ben and Kalani were teasingly arguing over which bats they should use this year for their Halloween house decorations. On the other side, under her cheery red and white umbrella, Poppy was still reading that awful Muggle book; Albus lounged next to her, cracking and eating roasted pistachio nuts, the sand near him littered with the pale spent shells. Looking out, Harry squinted at the clouds hanging ominously over the ocean - someone was getting a hell of a storm. Here on their parcel of black-sand beach, the surf was rough and riptide warnings lined the high tide line like bright orange blobs at regular intervals as far as the eye could see.

Not that this stopped the surfers, the tiny bobbing dots far away from the shore marking the locations of the braver wave riders as they patiently waited for the 'right one'. He idly thought he'd like to try it some day, but Kalani had laughingly told him that if he couldn't even keep his footing on the prickly rocks the two times they'd gone out net fishing with Ben, then he didn't stand a prayer of staying upright on a board. Well, he reckoned he had a long time to learn and briefly wondered if he could devise a spell to make it easier.

He drew breath to ask Severus about the possibilities, when, out of the blue, Albus cleared his throat and said conversationally, "Severus, I meant to mention - I've noticed that Harry changed the curse marks on your chest. I must say, the new ones are definitely an improvement."

Harry sat bolt upright with the white-hot fury he could feel rolling off his mate. What the hell was Albus doing? Didn't he know the subject was so sensitive even _he_ knew better than to bring it up? Well, maybe not, but what an odd thing to... "Ah, Albus..."

"What business is it of yours, old man?" Severus spat out quietly, his voice low and dangerous. Harry could hear their friends' bickering suddenly trail off.

Dumbledore looked a little taken aback by the venom in Severus' question. "My dear boy, I was only making an innocent observation. I meant nothing untoward by it."

No, it wasn't and, yes, he had. Harry was certain of that now. Was Albus deliberately provoking Severus?

Severus stood and walked the few steps to tower over the headmaster. "How convenient it must be. Say whatever takes your fancy, no matter the consequences, then hide and couch your pointed barbs behind a façade of humour and your _advanced_ age."

Dumbledore may have taken longer to get to his feet, but he was no less imposing as he pulled Severus away from the Lauhala mat, away from Poppy and the others, before facing his friend. "Severus, you're overreacting. Truly, I meant nothing by it."

"Nothing? Just like everything else? You do 'nothing', you say 'nothing' without a reason. The gods only know..."

Albus raised his voice to drown him out. "And what possible reason, other than a casual remark, could I have possibly had?"

Severus sneered, his normally dulcet tones raspy with his heated emotion. "I haven't a clue, _Albus_. You do the things you do only on your own counsel. Certainly never consulting with any of your pawns beforehand, but always, ALWAYS with a purpose - usually an unpleasant one, at least for _us_."

Harry could feel the energy starting to crackle around them as Dumbledore moved farther away, replying loudly, "Aren't we a bit paranoid, my friend?"

Severus followed. Placing his face inches from the old man, he shouted, "Paranoid? With all _we've_ been through? I think I have earned _that_ right ten times over. You have the audacity to call _me_ paranoid when every action, every decision _you_ made, and rarely with my consent, I might add, was more than likely going to get me killed?" He changed his voice to a whiny tenor. "Oh Severus, I am _so_ sorry, but it's for the good of mankind. I know it won't be easy, but we'll remember you fondly when they bring your body back - assuming they find one."

Having moved further on until they stood almost ten paces away, Albus yelled back, "Oh, now you go too far! You had choices, just like everyone else."

Harry sat forward, incredulous. No, they hadn't! He opened his mouth to protest when Poppy called out, "No, Harry. This is _their_ argument, not ours." Well, maybe, but he didn't have to like it. Despite his discomfort in letting it pass, he bowed to her supposed greater wisdom and kept his own counsel, his initial reaction vindicated with his mate's heated response.

Trembling with rage, Severus retorted with biting sarcasm, "Oh, yes. So many choices, Albus. 'Kill in cold blood, my boy, so we can save others! Don't worry, we'll rescue you from Azkaban!' or how about 'Abase yourself and grovel at your master's feet, take your stripes like a good little boy so _we_ can run in and be the heroes, once again, and save the day!'" His chest heaving, he cried out, "And who was going to save _me_? Who cared about _my_ soul, _my_ life, _my_ day? The Order? Hardly! You? Fah! You no more cared..."

The silencing spell off the wand of the headmaster hit him full in the chest. His eyes blazing, Severus drew his wand. His brow furrowing in intense concentration, his eyes glazed and with a great _crack!_ the words, "Now _you_ go too far, _sir_," burst from his mouth.

Jaw hanging open, Albus didn't have time to react to Severus breaking the spell before he cast a wide duelling ward, saying viciously, "You want to silence ME?" Before it fully closed, they heard him add, "Now, we finish it..." before the sound was muffled by the magical dome encasing them.

Harry stood up in alarm when Severus cast the ward. He was about to try to stop them when Poppy again called his name in warning, shaking her head. What on earth? Surely she didn't expect him to let this continue? Or did she?

Ben, in a practical panic, cast a series of spells to blank the area from the Muggles nearby as Severus and Albus circled each other warily.

Harry took a step towards them but stopped when Albus threw a tentative stinging hex at Severus who retaliated in full; soon it escalated until they were fighting in earnest, the sparks flying, the air within the ward choked with smoke and ominous flashes of light. No longer content with the more common spells, the two continued circling each other in the sand, casting hexes at each other in a multitude of languages.

Fearful of the damage the two seemed to be inflicting on one another as spells connected, wringing grunts of effort and cries of pain from both combatants, Harry looked over at Poppy, suddenly incensed at her calm acceptance. When he moved over to confront her, she pulled his hand sharply, forcing him to sit down next to her on the hard mat. She flinched briefly as Albus barely dodged something that made the walls of the ward light up furiously in a series of small explosions.

Leaning over, she said quietly, "It's been a long time coming, Harry - ever since the end of the war. He's a deep one, our Severus; it's understandable that he bears a lingering resentment over some of the horrible things he was asked to do. I suspect the episode right before your wedding, no matter its purpose, pushed him over the edge of tolerance."

Feeling no triumph that his speculation had been on the mark, his eyes never left the combatting wizards. "Then why did Albus deliberately provoke him?" Harry asked. "He did, didn't he?"

"Why do you lance a festering boil?" she asked, wincing as Albus' socks started smoking. Severus stood to the side, his arms crossed over his chest, a pleased sneer on his face, which quickly turned to a snarl when, with a barked incantation, Albus bound him in a shimmering light that started to contract, cutting off Severus' air.

Harry couldn't stand this anymore. One of them was going to get killed - or worse. He pulled his wand, intent on entering the fray. Someone had to stop them.

A hand like a vise on his arm stopped him. "No, don't. They're not going to kill each other."

"But Albus just - Severus can't - he'll hurt him. And Albus shouldn't be..."

Her voice choked, Poppy replied, "I know and I brought his medicines. But he needs this. They _both_ need this. And no, Harry, he can't really hurt Severus any more; this illness has taken so much away from him. While Severus has always been powerful in his own right, he can now best him if he puts a mind to it; Albus needs to see that although his magic IS diminished, he is still effective, still has value."

"Since when..." Feeling almost the same rush of anger he'd felt from Severus earlier, Harry exclaimed, defending his mate, "I don't believe this! Why is it Severus' responsibility to do this for Albus? Wouldn't you say Severus has been used quite enough already?"

Wordlessly, she turned her regard back to the duel; Severus had managed to free himself from the binding and, chests heaving with the exertion, the two men resumed their circling, flinging curses and hexes at each other, the words and spells muffled by the speed of their expression.

Her eyes fixed on her mate, her voice defeated, she explained, "Severus is the only one who _can_..."

"Can what? Get hurt _again_ for Albus?" he asked hotly, jumping up in agitation. "Help him? Help him what? Prove that he's still a wizard?" When Poppy remained silent, her eyes widening in dismay, he added, "And this requires the further diminishment of Albus' health and Severus' possible injury to prove what? A point? Damn it, Poppy! I will _not_ stand by and let either one of them continue this... this... stupid pigheadedness!" Drawing his wand, he strode off, determined to end the battle.

Panicked, Poppy cried to his retreating back, "No! You mustn't get involved, Harry!"

He turned quickly, the heated retort on his lips fading as his gaze took in the raw, sincere entreaty on her face. "Please, Harry. Please, come back here."

His arm dropped, wand by his side as he impatiently trudged back to join her. "I'm listening. Make it swift."

"You're ever so much stronger than Albus now." Her regard strayed to the duel as if reassuring herself that the two men were still all right. "If you were to fight him, you would hurt him badly - in more ways than one. Leave them be, Harry." She turned worried eyes to him. "You have no - personal - stake in this; they do. There are _other_ reasons they are in conflict - deep and fundamental - known only to themselves. I'm no more happy with this childish display than you are; however, I do understand its inevitable necessity. Before you were born, hard choices were made and terrible prices were paid - by both of them. As I said before, this has been years in the making." She turned her gaze once again to the struggle, murmuring, "And we both know how - kindly - Severus would take it were _you_ to interfere in what he sees as _his_ fight."

Harry wanted to disagree, wanted desperately to shed the turmoil roiling through him. However, at least insofar as her comment about Severus was concerned, there was more truth in that than Harry really wanted to admit, but there it was. "Old wounds or not, I still think there has to be a better way for them to resolve their differences."

"What? You think Albus and Severus are capable of calmly and rationally discussing their _feelings_ about this?" She snorted. "I can't speak for your Severus, except what I've observed over the last thirty some-odd years, but I can tell you that _Albus_ is incapable of expressing his emotions to others in mere words. He's more of a 'show-it' kind of person. Is Severus any different? Hmm?"

What could he say? He felt some of his anger drain away; she was right, but the knowledge brought no comfort as he silently begged whoever might be listening to keep his mate safe.

He made room when Kalani and Ben joined them and they all watched, holding their breaths as the two stubborn wizards continued the duel. After a few more minutes of it, both of them scorched and limping, Harry realised they were yelling more than engaging; he dared hope the ordeal was almost over.

"Stop mollycoddling me!" they could hear a tired Albus demanding, a simple jelly-legs hex leaving his wand.

Slow to dodge it, Severus retorted, "What, can't take your own medicine?" His wand raised, an asp appeared in front of Albus. "Not until you stop trying to run my life."

Banishing it with a casual flip of his wand, Albus cried, "I do _not_ try to run your life." A jinx flashed off Dumbledore's wand.

Holding his sliding shorts up with one hand, Severus mumbled the counterspell while Albus chuckled. "Got a problem there, my boy?"

"You doddering old _fool!_" Severus spat, a fire hex flying away from him.

"Maybe, but I'll have you know, I still have all my teeth!" Albus howled, dousing the smoking ruins of his aloha shirt. "Damn it! That was my favourite shirt!"

Quicker than thought, another spell blew off the end of his wand, catching Severus unawares. Flying through the air, he connected solidly with the side of the ward, bouncing off to land in the sand, skidding several feet flat on his arse, legs akimbo. His face flush with either anger or embarrassment, it was hard to tell at this distance, Severus growled, saying with asperity, "Well, I wasn't particularly fond of these shorts, but, no thanks to you, I _was_ rather attached to the layers of skin I'm now missing."

They stared at each other for several moments, then blinking, began to laugh. Deep, breath-stealing belly laughs rolled out of them until Albus was sitting on the ground next to Severus, the two of them leaning on each other, helpless in their mirth.

"I certainly hope they don't think _I'm_ going to patch them up," Poppy muttered, staring hard at the rollicking pair.

"Given how _we're_ taken so much for granted, I'm sure they'll assume we will," Harry replied, breathing a heavy sigh of relief, unsure whether he should laugh or rage. With a wry chuckle, laughter won - for now.

"We'll see about that," Poppy said as she tried to stand, the mat slipping in the sand. Harry had no such problem and, holding out his hands, helped her up. Brushing her shorts off, she whispered conspiratorially, "Now, my dear, watch and learn."

Determined, Poppy marched over to the duelling ward and, with a flick of her wand, it dissolved, revealing the two battered combatants still chuckling almost hysterically as they gave each other a hand up. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Pomfrey Dumbledore!"

Wincing, Albus gave them a pleading glance before turning sheepishly to his righteously angry wife. "What in the name of the seven hells did you think you were doing out there?" Grabbing Albus' braided beard, she tugged and led him, hobbling ungainly, off to their rooms, her non-stop harangue carrying clearly to the four remaining on the beach.

"Knew she needed a leash," Severus muttered, grimacing as he brushed the sand off his bum.

Harry rounded on him, his hands firmly on his hips, feet and legs poised as if he were going to attack. _Ssseverusss Sssnape-Potter! Do you have a death wisssh?_

"I think that's our cue to go get dinner," Ben told Kalani quietly when Harry's irate eyes flickered over to them.

_Becaussse if you do, I can help you along._ He folded his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, I'd have to agree," Kalani answered. Moving off, he asked, "Think Severus knows what Harry's saying?"

"Harry James Snape-Potter, don't you dare speak to me in that tone of hiss."

Ben put his arm around Kalani's shoulder. "Think it _needs_ a translation?"

_If you ever do that again... _

"Nah - pissed is pissed, whatever the language." Laughing, they mounted Kalani's scooter and rode off.

_... I'll... I'll... _

"He started it, I just finished it!" Severus exclaimed defensively, his mouth working to contain a smile.

"On your arse, I might add." Cooling a bit, he dropped his arms, watching their friends depart hastily. "Don't scare me like that, again. All right? I do _not_ enjoy swallowing my heart."

Severus sniffed. "I was not the one on the offensive, if you'll recall."

"Oh? A fire hex is considered defensive?"

"Well," Severus poked a hole in the sand with his toe, "he did try to jinx my shorts off."

"Uh huh. Although I do admit, you did a good job pulling your hexes. It _was_ quite considerate of you to let him win, given how he provoked you in the first place." He reached around and rubbed Severus' arse. "I can kiss it and make it better, you know."

Severus glared at him, one brow raised. "Provoked _me_? Albus? You must be joking." He looked to the side. "And I didn't throw it," he mumbled, a touch of pink colouring his cheeks.

Harry stared back, stunned; Severus really believed _he'd_ started it?

Obviously mistaking Harry's incredulity, Severus wryly asked, "Does this mean I won't get my arse kissed anytime soon?"

A hard swat on that perfect bum seemed the best reply, all things considered.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

The slow sensuality of youthful skin kissed by torchlight did not move him as much as the soft lips gently feathering his brow. The graceful glide of bare feet sliding across dark sands did not leave him as breathless as the hand ghosting across his face and neck in aimless patterns. The light tattoo of long elegant fingers beating lightly on his hip in time to the ancient chanting, measured the calm beat of the pulse under his cheek. The soft sighs of mesmerised pleasure as his mate enjoyed the dance echoed his own sighs of contentment as he nestled snugly against the strong chest.

He didn't really care about the skillful display on the beach - he wasn't watching in any event; instead he concentrated on those brief flashes of unity as Severus touched him and the temperate, easy feeling flowing between them. Harry didn't much like conflict, didn't like feeling euphoria slide into despair, railed against cheer melting into anger. The constant highs and lows of Severus' volatile temperament sometimes exhausted him, which made this rare inner peace all the more special, something to linger over and savour, like the rich fare Malia had brought earlier for their supper.

Unnoticed, at least by Harry, Ben's Halau continued practicing their Hula by the light of a small bonfire and bright torches, their tall staves driven deep into the sand just past the high tide line. Instead, Harry's outward attention was drawn more by Albus sitting near them in a beach chair, his beard wagging in tempo to the dancers sinuously telling their stories. He'd been concerned at first when Poppy had placed their seats so close, but the two wizards seemed to have purged the anger out of their systems and their subsequent banter appeared to be back to normal, so he ceased his vigilance. Resting his cheek on Severus' shoulder, he sighed contentedly as he relaxed, completely comfortable and at ease.

Harry's attention sharpened with the gradual halt of both chanting and movement as Ben stopped his group, his harshly clapping hands beating a correction to an errant rhythm only he could hear. Harry felt Severus move his head away from where it had been resting against his, the heavy sigh and tender fluttering of the bond alerting him that something unusual was happening. Looking over, he glimpsed Albus, his face almost shining with his love, hesitantly stroking Severus' ebony hair. With a small pat, he rested his hand gently on the younger man's shoulder while Severus stared straight ahead, seemingly indifferent.

Harry looked away, a tightness forming in his chest as he thought about what the future held and struggled to control the haziness filling his eyes. A few minutes later, he'd almost managed to put the wayward thoughts behind him when he felt a small movement from his husband and, unable to resist, he looked over again only to see Severus rubbing his cheek across the back of the old man's hand, his eyes clenched closed in silent anguish.

Turning away, Harry tightened his hold on his husband's waist and settled in to watch the resumed dance, leaving Albus and Severus their final reconciliation in private.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

**Friday 31 October 2003 HST**

"An Obake house? On the Obake tour?" Severus asked sceptically, ignoring the cheeky grin from his husband sitting across from him at the table on the lanai.

Joseph, sitting between them, fiddled with his cup of tea, the remains of his breakfast pushed off to the side. "Yes. If you want to, that is. While Albus is at Hogwarts, we would have plenty of time to prepare."

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Severus asked, "Prepare what?"

"The house, the yard, the drive. We'd put a special marker out at the road to let people know the house is on the tour; it's a lot of fun."

"And what would we do with them?" His bum still hurt from yesterday even with the healing Harry had done last night. He dismissed the uncharitable thought that his husband had not completely fixed it as some sort of lesson. Harry wouldn't do that.

"Oh, decorate them, of course. The scarier, the better. Everyone does it. Costumes, creepy things, we all try to scare the living daylights out of the kids who come trick or treating."

Severus sniffed, still sceptical. "Ben mentioned this trick-or-treating thing. What is it?"

Joseph smiled. "The kids dress up in costumes and go door to door begging for candy or treats. Supposedly, if you don't give it to them, they can then do 'tricks' or nasty pranks on you or your house in retaliation."

Wonderful. "Sounds more like open hooligan night to me."

Chuckling, Joseph replied, "Well, I suppose it could be, at least with the older ones, but the little ones are so cute."

Harry laughed, his eyes full of mischief. "_Cute_ is not a word Severus has in his vast vocabulary."

Joseph winked and said drolly, "Somehow that does not surprise me."

Severus shook his head; Harry was up to something, but what? He couldn't even begin to guess; his husband was entirely too quiet on his end of the table. Placing his hands flat on the worn wooden surface, and with a long-suffering sigh, he asked, "All right, say we were to agree to this, what would we have to do?"

"Not much more than a little magic. Halloween is a huge celebration around here; it's the one night out of the year we witches and wizards here in Hana let our true natures out. Everyone else thinks we're just really good at the decorations, but in reality, every bat, cat, spell, potion, spider, cobweb, and character is real. Ben and Kalani are famous around here for their bats."

Bats? What the hell were they getting themselves into here? And would it come to visit them later? "Doesn't that make the residents the least bit curious the rest of the year?"

"Nah. Our wards are designed to keep people out when we're not around and there is the issue that everyone thinks our houses are 'Obake' or full of spirits. And even if some were courageous enough to brave a dare to go exploring outside of the holiday, the wards take care of the rest. We've been residents for years and never had a problem either before after the revelry."

"Revelry? This is a party?" Just how many people were they taking about?

Shaking his head, Joseph explained, "Severus, let me put this in perspective. There are some 4,000 people in the Hana region; fully half will be out tonight, the rest will be handing out candy. It's a full community activity. Being so far out, we won't see but a fraction of them, maybe 200 or 300 - more than enough to entertain."

Calm, he would remain calm. "Indeed. You said costumes?"

"Sort of - what we do is spell ourselves into a character - warts and all - that's half the fun! Malia, for example, always 'dresses' as a hag, Kahea' likes being a ghoul, and I'm always a mummy."

"We can be anything we want?" Severus mused, his thoughts turning to likely 'characters' he could become. Perhaps a scarecrow?

"Sure."

With enthusiasm, Harry said, "I've always wanted to be Quasimodo. You know, the whole grotesque, hunchback thing." His eyes widened. "Severus, you could be a..."

Not this again. "Don't say it."

"But, you would be perfect as a..."

"Say it and we'll have a real coffin with a real dead body in it."

"But..."

The picture floating through his head was just too painful to contemplate. Stubborn prat.

"Har-ry..." he sputtered in warning.

Harry almost hid his grin. "Sev-er-us..." Persistent whelp, waggling brows and all.

A new image passed before his mind's eye. Sexy. It did have a tempting appeal. "I'll think on it," he temporized, staring at his fully grinning spouse. Definitely up to something.

Joseph looked between them and their half-silent exchange. "So, you're going to do it?"

Did he have a choice? With a heavy sigh of resignation, Severus replied, "I suppose so, as long as it's only for one night."

"Promise."

Might as well be gracious about it. "Very well."

"I'll stay and help and when Poppy and Albus get back, they can pitch in, too."

Oh, good gads! Like Albus needed any more encouragement to be totally outrageous. "Why am I not reassured?"

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

"Trick or Treat! Twick o' tweat."

"Wow, a pirate, and a... whatever-you-are..."

"I'm an alien," a young boy of about ten stated proudly as he tugged on an obviously uncomfortable silver costume.

"Ah, I see. Love the eyes. And you are a - Metamorph?" he queried the older girl dripping black make-up and sprouting a pink Mohawk.

Her hip thrust out in a body pout, she rolled her eyes. "Oh man, get a life. Punk star."

The confused hunchback mouthed 'punk star' and then, stooping low to the littlest one, remarked, "Oh, and what a cute... ?"

"Princess, Quasi. The little one is a princess. See, she has her crown, and her ballgown..." King Tut explained as he handed out the candy from a glowing pumpkin to the four 'brave' urchins standing warily on the lanai.

The trip down the walkway from the road, where their mother waited indulgently for them, had been fraught with peril. First they'd dodged the ghosts swooping and diving around the front of the house, ghosts that flew _through_ them - and the old man with his long wild beard and tattered robes choked with living vines and leaves that were slowly turning him into a tree. As they quickly sidestepped his groping arms, they ignored his piteous pleas for them to help save him from a hideous, cackling old woman with a patched shawl who held an exceptionally long ax to his side ready to chop him down. Once past, they cautiously approached the lanai, sneaking up the half-rotten boards while tendrils of cobwebs, bristling with plump spiders, skittered across their shivering skin. Creep. Creak. Creep. _Crack! Slap!_ - they jumped in synch as silent bats flew in and out around them and up to the ceiling, while wickedly grinning pumpkins started singing a bewitching song. Around them, a skeleton, playing a half-tuned fiddle, danced a merry jig.

Eyes wide and staring, the children said their Halloween greetings to a filthy hunchback with a misshapen eye and flying black hair. With a jolting gait and ape-like swinging arms, he held the menacing, glowing pumpkin, its toothy grin widening each time a hand went in to draw out its sweet bounty. A mummy, wrapped in greying decayed bandages, handed out chunks of whistling hard candy and chocolate frogs that hopped into their hands. The children were so enthralled by a stand of cauldrons spewing forth mists of bubbling fog and a herd of skanky black cats slinking out of the dark corners to wend and wind their way around their ankles, they were unaware of the tall vampire who stepped out of the shadows behind them.

Patiently waiting, the black-clad creature of the night surreptitiously waved his wand behind his back with a whispered, "_Lumos_." The children had no more turned to leave, their bounty secured in white pillowcases almost dragging the ground, when the alien froze, grabbed his punk sister and pushed her in front of him as the vampire, his sinister face lit from underneath by his glowing wand floating in front him, stood looming with his arms extended, cape spread as he hissed at them. Baring terrifying fangs dripping with blood, he lunged for the oldest one, crying "Lunch!" and cackled evilly.

His claw-like hands grasped at thin air a few inches away from the terrified boy already dashing off the deck. He laughed with gusto as two more terrified youngsters scampered past him, screaming "Mo-o-o-om!" The littlest one, a regal princess to her core, bravely tapped him on the stomach with her paper scepter, giggling as she cooed, "Cool costume!" With a skip and a wave, she was gone to join her siblings.

The vampire's shoulders hunched dejectedly as he muttered, "I mutht be loothing my touch." Quasimodo laughed so hard he held up the door frame.

Even the tree was chuckling when the ax woman commented, "Don't worry, Vlad, that's what? One out of a hundred? I'd say your reputation as the terror of the night is still intact."

"I didn't realise there were so many children living around here," Quasimodo remarked to the mummy.

"There aren't. They're driving over here, just like they do at our place and Ben and Kalani's and all the other Wizarding homes. The Muggles enjoy our particular brand of humour and know it's harmless; more than a few know it's real, but the kids don't. They think we're the 'coolest' houses at Halloween."

"Hush!" the old man hissed. "Here comes the next bunch!"

They all prepared themselves for the next round, the vampire hastily extinguishing his wand with a cursed, "Nox, damn it!"

Quasi looked over to see him running his finger over his bottom lip. "Bite yourself again, Drackie?" he asked, chortling.

"Hmph," was his only comment before their guests were upon them.

Five youths, all lean older teens dressed as gang members strutted onto the lanai with false bravado. Sporting t-shirts with identical skulls, chains draped all over their bodies, their shorts hung low, showing the tops of their patterned boxers. The vampire, smiling wickedly to himself, wondered how many of them he could... well, maybe not... This called for a different tactic and he cast a cold spell on himself as the cockaroos, derisively making fun of Quasimodo and Tut, took their candy with hooting catcalls to the skeleton. Then one of them kicked a cat out of the way.

It was too easy. He knew just what to do with bully boys.

Gliding soundlessly across the lanai right behind them, he extended his arms and gently placed them around the shoulders of the tallest two in the back, which still put him over a foot taller. Frozen, two sets of terrified eyes tracked back and up; he grinned evilly, showing his fangs. He pulled them unresisting into his cape and touched icy hands to the necks of the boys in front. Satisfied he had their undivided attention, he glanced up at Quasi, who had pulled his wand. Dracula wrapped them all in his cape, the frigid cold seeping from his body into theirs. The shivers of fright as he murmured, "Now which one of you strapping young men will make a tasty snack for tonight?" were quite wonderful and with a nod, Quasimodo cast the spell. With a loud _crack!_ and a puff of smoke, followed by a blinding light, the vampire was gone and in his place was a huge black bat who hovered over them, hissing and showing long sharp fangs.

Five bodies, screaming bloody murder, leapt off the lanai almost as one and hightailed it up the drive, the huge revenge-bent bat hot in pursuit all the way to the road. His dizzy flight around and amongst them, made more than one trip and, stumbling to regain their balance, he beat their backsides with heavy leathery wings, his claws and sharp teeth shredding cotton shirts whenever he clung to their backs.

Minutes later when he returned, he hovered over the hunchback, clearly waiting to be turned back. Unfortunately, Quasi was laughing so hard, he couldn't get a word out, and as he slid down the door frame onto the wooden deck, the bat landed heavily on his head, smacking the side of his face with his wings. He hopped down and minced across the deck, an awkward progression until with a screech, he hovered once again. Wheezing, Quasi managed to choke out the counterspell and a very irate, yet smug, vampire stood on the lanai, wrapping his dignity up in his cloak. He sniffed and slunk back into the shadows as the old man called out another warning.

Pity - only three wet themselves.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

The tricksters and the children long gone and in their beds, Albus and Poppy sat out past the high tide mark on a blanket spread over the still-warm black sand.

"You must be exhausted," she said quietly, placing her hand on his knee.

"A bit," he hedged, "but I wouldn't have missed this for the world. I have eternity to sleep, Popples, but only once to really see our Severus have fun."

"Aye, the vampire spell was perfect. I suspect he managed to play out every misplaced rumour there's ever been about him."

"And maybe a few we didn't know about." Albus chuckled. "When he followed those boys..."

"They'll do well, both our boys."

"I daresay you're right. I almost wish..."

"I know - and I also know you wouldn't, even though you can, nor will you let Harry, either."

"True, love," he whispered, kissing her cheek. "But it _is_ tempting."

"So is eating too much chocolate and drinking too much wine."

"Ah, yes, speaking of which," he said as he reached to the side and pulled out a stoppered carafe of Merlot, and two wine goblets out of a hamper. "Our last bottle," he said as he poured them both a glass, but neither one took an immediate sip, contemplating instead with fond eyes the ruby red liquid of the wine bought when they'd first come to the islands. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, his hand idly stroking her arm as she sighed and nestled into his side.

"It's been the best life, Wully. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

He sighed, pulling her closer to him, the arm still strong and warm despite his age. "We'll never come back here, will we?"

"Well, there _is_ still Christmas, but after that? Probably not - we've little need for it anymore. It's _their_ place now - we should leave them to it."

"I know - hard though - I love this place," he replied reflectively. "I like what they did with our house."

"Shush. Their home, their refuge, their place to play and find sanctuary. Just as it was ours."

"They'll need it."

"So did we."

"True." They stared off at the surf, lulled by the pulsing waves, the sound as soothing as it has ever been since the first wave struck the first beach. He turned to her, his glass raised in front of him. She touched the lip of hers to his as he quoted:

_"Wine comes in at the mouth  
And love comes in at the eye:  
That's all we shall know for truth  
Before we grow old and die.  
I lift the glass to my mouth,  
I look at you, and I sigh."_

Crystal rang softly as the fluted edges touched one last time and, after draining the contents, lips the flavour of old wine joined in a silent farewell to the place that had always brought them respite.

It was theirs no more.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

TBC

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

_Albus' quote is from a drinking song by William Butler Yeats_

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

Many thanks to _Aseneth_ for her 'dog story' I 'stole' and adapted in the beginning of the chapter.


	43. Part III : Ghost Rider

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Forty Three : Ghost Rider**

_Edited for FanFiction-net: 125 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods. I apologise if this feels choppy in any way, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site._

**Saturday 1 November 2003 HST**

"I tried teaching the house-elves how to make this," Severus said, swallowing the last bite of the fried rice Ben had brought for breakfast. "It was horrid, though; Dobby said they didn't have any of the right ingredients."

"If we have time, do you want to go to Kaneshiro's and buy some?"

"The idea is tempting, but I think not. Even with the proper stores, convincing the house-elves to use day-old rice is impossible."

"Got a soggy mess, did you?" Ben teased.

"Something like that," he replied, shuddering. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he set it aside, pushing his plate back out of the way. With a deft wand, he idly cleaned their dishes, stacking them neatly in the center of the table when finished. "I've not seen Poppy and Albus; did they leave already?" he asked, a bit put out they'd not said goodbye.

Tipping his chair back on two legs, Ben took a gulp of his coffee. "No. They're over at Malia's - should be back soon." He looked around. "Where's Harry?"

"Probably still in the shower; he tends to get carried away with his..." he cleared his throat "...vocal repertoire."

"That bad, eh?"

"You have no idea," he replied with a grimace, then added, "I think the next time we come out, I'm going to add a bathing pool to the house; I miss ours."

With a knowing grin, Ben asked innocently. "Miss what? Bathing? Or _bathing_?"

Severus sniffed, ignoring the jibe. "I'm surprised they went; I thought they wanted to leave about now."

"That was the plan, but Malia called Kalani last night and told him a crate had arrived there for Albus and, since you don't have a Floo or a phone, he was to bring them over first thing this morning to collect it before they left."

"I wondered where he'd got to," Severus murmured. Setting his cup down, he mused, "I suppose we should add a Floo next time as well." He fiddled with the napkin. "Did she say what it was?"

Ben shrugged. "Nope. Said it came by special Portkey from Arthur Weasley. Is that the same Arthur who was at your wedding?"

"I would assume so - he's the only one I know," Severus replied dryly. "Still, it's very strange; I can't imagine what..."

Head lifting, he heard _it_. Even after all these years, he'd know _that_ sound anywhere. His bane - deep, throaty, the growl of a ravenous beast about to make a kill. Prowling closer, its voice changed to a muted roar, the powerful engine driving it onward. Standing, he could easily follow the progress - on the road, down the drive, near the house, until the huge, two wheeled, black and silver machine coasted to a stop at the foot of the stairs to the lanai.

His hair a crazed halo around his beaming face, his beard thrown recklessly over his shoulder, Albus laughed in sheer pleasure as he shut off the engine; Poppy, sitting wild-eyed behind him, smiled wanly. As he helped her off the deep seat, a similar machine, all cherry red and chrome, its noise overshadowed by the other, cruised to a stop next to them. Removing his helmet, Kalani hung it on the handle bars of his Harley before climbing off, careful not to dislodge his sister behind him. She shook her long hair out as she handed him her helmet, then taking his proffered hand, hopped off the old, but pristinely maintained, touring bike.

Ignoring the easy banter between Albus and Kalani, Severus stared hard at the first motorbike, taking in the gleaming black body unchanged by time; he closed his eyes against the intrusive memories. Without a word, he turned back to the house.

"Hey! Where you going?" Ben asked, his face a mask of confusion.

He supposed he should at least be civil. "To get Harry," he replied shortly, opening the screen.

"Why..." but he was already in the door. The house seemed dark after the bright sunshine outside, but perhaps it had more to do with the old shadows dogging him than any real effect of the lighting.

His eyes adjusting, he noticed Harry coming out of their bedroom, pulling his shirt over his still-damp, tousled head. Seeing him, a grin lit his face. "Ah ha - coming back for another... ?" And then it faded to concern. Tugging his shirt in place, he walked up to him, placing a hand on his arm. "Severus, what's wrong?"

Wrong? Nothing, except... "Albus wants to see you."

"Oh?" He hesitated. "Are we back to 'nothing' - again?" he asked seriously.

What? Nothing? Oh, right. "Not really. I..." he shifted uncomfortably "...I'm not certain what I'm..." He started again. "It has nothing to do with..." Damn. "Just go outside." Harry eyed him strangely, which he supposed he deserved, but refrained from further questions, for which he was grateful.

Damning his morbid curiosity, which quashed his baser desire to stay inside and hide, he reluctantly followed Harry out in time to hear him exclaim, "Wow! Wicked bike, Albus!" He moved to the edge of the lanai, looking down. "Where'd you get it?" he asked, his eyes shining like Christmas.

Severus half-expected Albus' enthusiastic reply. "Arthur found it by accident last week and sent it along. And it's not mine, my boy, it's yours. I just took it for a little spin."

Harry gaped. "Mine? Arthur sent me a motorbike?"

"Not exactly..." Severus wanted to throttle him; did he have to dramatize _everything_? "...It belonged to your godfather."

Mesmerised, Harry walked down the steps right up to the bike. Running almost reverent hands across the leather seat, he asked quietly, "This was Sirius'?"

_...Lord knew where he'd got the money, or who had been foolish enough to gift it to him, but on Boxing Day, Severus' fifth year, he remembered the sound of that engine over their house. Running outside to see what the hell was going on, he'd discovered Sirius and James flying over, dropping dung bombs in the yard. His father had been furious, but, looking back on it, he supposed he should be thankful they'd done it the day after he'd signed the contract for Narcissa and the day before she'd sent back her refusal; his punishment for their prank hadn't been as severe as it could have been..._

"...kept it hidden when he was sent to Azkaban; when he escaped, he asked me to store it because he didn't want it confiscated by the authorities. Loved this bike, he did."

"I remember him talking about it..."

_...His sixth year he'd slaved every weekend, four hours every Saturday and Sunday, for weeks at the beck and call of Filch doing every stinking, filthy job the squib could think of to make his life miserable. The fruit of his labours had been carefully purchased from the apothecary during a Hogsmeade weekend, some of it shrunk in his pockets, the more fragile and valuable components cradled protectively in his arms. For a brief time, as he'd walked back to Hogwarts, he'd been happy. That is until the growling sound of that engine, growing louder every second, bore down on him, the potion ingredients flying out of his arms when Sirius pushed him off the path in passing. Pulling himself up off the ground, where he'd landed face first in the heath, he'd winced at the squishy sounds coming from his robes and almost cried when he'd seen the rest of it, irretrievably splattered amidst broken glass and raucous laughter..._

"...rode it to Europe the summer before your fourth year. He sent me a couple of postcards I'll give you when you get back."

"I'd like that - thank you. But where has it..."

_...He'd been limping home to Mecadia from a hellish Death Eater meeting when, as cruel chance would have it, he'd heard that engine coming from behind him. Sliding into the shadows of a nearby building, he'd been unsurprised to see the dog flying down the middle of the road, the wind of his passing swirling the leaves to the side into a dizzy frenzy, dancing to the sparkling laughter of the pretty girl seated closely behind him. In that bitter moment he'd known despair, the futile anger at the unfairness of it all emptying itself out of his belly in sour waves to land squarely on the pavement near his aching feet. He'd made his somber way home soon after, not speaking for three days, but ensconced in his latest research, Mecadia had never noticed, nor asked..._

"...disappeared when he fell in The Veil. I searched for it, but gave it up as lost. Then I got an Owl from Arthur on Monday that it had been found in a back storage room at the Ministry. I asked him to send it here." He glanced at Severus and away, but Harry didn't notice. "I thought it might be fun for you here in Hana."

"Oh, yeah," Harry breathed, his hand still on the seat. "I can't wait to..."

_...Carrying the silent child wrapped in a warm wooly blanket, Poppy had shown up unexpectedly in his dungeons the night his Dark Mark had faded. The fevered emerald eyes (so much like his mother's) had stared at him almost accusingly as she'd explained the situation. Between his rarer potions and her healing they'd cured the tenacious curse sickness, but there was no helping the scar. Not daring to hope that Voldemort was truly gone, he remembered his shock at the sound of that engine as Hagrid had taken the crying infant from them at the hidden tunnel entrance before flying off to Surrey, the squirming child snug across his chest. He'd read about the explosions and Sirius' betrayal the next day, never doubting it could be true..._

A hand on his shoulder broke his reverie. "Are you OK?" Ben whispered.

"I _hate_ that..." he mumbled, stopping cold when he realised he'd said it out loud.

"Severus!" Harry called, his face flush with excitement. "Let's go for a ride."

Over his dead body. Severus gritted his teeth; what choice did he have? He didn't want to make an issue of it.

"Eh, Harry!" Ben shouted, moving away from Severus with a wink. "You ever ride one of those before?"

"Uh, not really. But it's enchanted - how hard can it be?"

Ben rolled his eyes while Kalani chuckled. "You shouldn't ride it around here without a license - for you and the bike. You're not as lucky as Uncle Albus - you'd get a ticket for sure."

"And that's bad?"

"It's not good." Harry opened his mouth to protest. "Aia! You're as stubborn as he is," Ben exclaimed, nodding his head at Severus. "Never mind, you can store it safely in the shed and the next time you're out here, you and Kalani can go to Lahaina, get the learner's permit and the bike licensed. Then he can teach you how to ride it. Once you take the driving test, it's all yours." Ben chuckled at Harry's disappointed frown, saying quietly, "There, that should cool his jets - for now."

Severus glanced sharply at him.

"Eh, it's all true, too," he said innocently, shrugging.

Holding his speculation to himself, Severus silently cheered when Kalani helped Harry roll the heavy bike into the outdoor storage shed, explaining the various controls as they went. Harry's eyes were glazed by the time he warded the door. Severus briefly wondered if there was a safe way he could banish the bike, but just as quickly discarded the notion; he was just going to have to adjust to its reappearance in his life, hoping the future would be better than the past.

Shortly thereafter, Albus and Poppy made their goodbyes and wistfully Portkeyed home. Although he almost felt guilty for doing so, Severus sighed in relief with their departure. Following Ben up on the lanai, Severus took a seat at the table; Harry brought out a tray with five glasses of the plantation ice tea he rather liked and Severus barely tolerated, finding the pineapple juice made it far too sweet (although it was not nearly as horrid as that 'lemonade' Malia and Joseph favoured).

Setting the tray on the table, Harry glanced around at the lack of seats and, with a grin, sat in Severus' lap, saying, "Can't exactly make the lady stand, now can I?" When Severus sniffed and adjusted his legs to distribute Harry's substantial weight, said heavy spouse leaned over and whispered, "Sorry, I'm not sure I've got this chair conjuring business down yet."

Severus snorted, but took advantage anyway, snaking his arm around the nearby waist, blatantly ignoring Harry's smug smile.

With everyone settled, Severus was about to ask what the schedule was for the remainder of the day when Kahealani leant forward and tapped his hand lying on the table. "Severus," she began in her quiet manner, "I don't want to bother you, but I was wondering if I can ask you a question?" She bit her bottom lip, hesitating. "I already asked Joseph and Ben and they didn't know, so..."

"What is it you want to know?" he asked cautiously.

"When people are transfigured into animals, do they retain their - humanity?" Before he could respond, she hastily added, "I mean, can they understand human speech, or are they turned into - dumb beasts?"

"How long would the transformation last?" he asked, intrigued.

"Oh, say a night, maybe longer?" Seeing his raised brow, she rushed on, "See, I'm - um - tired of being a ghoul at Halloween and I thought that maybe - since I can't ever be an _Animagus_ - if Ben or Joseph were to transfigure me into something scary, like a black cat, or maybe a tiger," her voice grew wistful, "it could be a lot of fun to - scare the kids with, but not if I'm not - myself."

Severus sat back deep in thought a moment. "If I recall, Minerva has said it depends on the spell; I've only been turned into an animal once, so have little personal experience," his lips curled into an evil smile, "although as a bat last night, I had full control of my faculties."

While Ben chuckled, Harry held up a finger, staring at him. "Ah, actually, Severus, I think you ought to..."

"Good idea," he replied, pulling his wand. Before anyone could utter a word, he cast the spell. Silently, the man in his lap transfigured into a tiny, orange and black spotted pig.

"Oh! How sweet! He's so little," Kahealani cooed, patting his head. "Harry, can you understand me?"

In the meantime, the pig blinked, looking around in confusion. He sat back, snuffling up at Severus. "Squeee?"

Clutching his stomach, Ben lost it. Helpless, Kalani leaned against him, his shoulders shaking.

Severus bit back a smile. "I'm afraid that was not exactly the form I was aiming for," he said ruefully. Without thinking, he pulled on the little corkscrewed tail. "Cute bugger, though."

Harry butted Severus' belly. "Squeee!"

"Can you change him back?" Kahea' asked, worrying her bottom lip.

"Squeee?" Harry sat back on his bum, his tail wagging.

"I believe so; I just need a moment to think about it."

"Squeee!" Harry bumped his wiggling nose against Severus' wand. "SQUEEE!"

"Well, if you can't," Ben gasped out, shaking his head, "I've heard they make excellent pets - once they're domesticated."

Harry let out an outraged squeal and jumped off of Severus' lap. Stamping his hoof against the wooden deck, he stared up at his spouse accusingly. "Er, sorry," he muttered, "I told you I wasn't very skilled at Transfigurations." Well, he would never know unless he tried. He raised his wand...

"Squeal, squeee, grunt, squeak..." a flash of light "..._now_ you bloody well tell me!" Harry exclaimed, picking himself off the lanai. Dusting his bottom off, he rounded on them. "I understood you all just fine, thank you very much." He turned back to Severus. "I am _not_ cute, and if you _ever_ pull my tail again..."

While the others stared blankly at him in shock, Severus struggled to grasp what he'd just witnessed.

"What?" Harry's eyes narrowed in irritation.

Kalani broke the silence. "Um, how did you _do_ that?"

"Do what?" Harry asked, his face scrunching in confusion.

Severus cleared his throat. "I believe Kalani is referring to the, ah, inescapable fact that _I_ did not change you back. You did."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Me?" He shook his head. "How could I possibly..."

Severus purposefully kept his gaze neutral. He slid a glance to Ben, relieved when his friend took the unspoken hint and stood, his hands outstretched as he quickly ushered Kalani and Kahea' off the lanai with a quiet, "We've not much time before the others get here; we need to unload the truck before they arrive."

Shoulders hunching, Harry sank into a convenient chair and whispered, "I did it again, didn't I?"

Unsure how a gesture of sympathy would be received right now, Severus made himself relax back into his chair, even though he really wanted to pace. "It appears so."

"Damn it! I hate this!" Harry cried, putting his face in his hands.

Severus leant forward and gently stroked Harry's hair, running his fingers down the hands hiding his face. In slow degrees, Harry raised anguished eyes to him. "I was angry and it just happened," he choked out. "What if I can't ever control it?"

He took his cold hands, warming them between his own. "With your strong will, I am quite certain you will master it in time, Harry. That's all you need - a little time - and training."

Harry nodded, calming. "I guess so." He sighed. "I just have to keep my temper in check."

Severus chuckled. "Ah - now _there's_ a challenge."

Good - there was the smile he wanted to see, small, but still there. He hid his own when Harry muttered, "Prat."

Drolly, Severus remarked, "I think you have that backwards. _You're_ the prat; _I'm_ the prick, remember?"

Harry may have laughed at the comment, but the bond told Severus a different story and, as Ben called out to the men arriving to help finish the roofing, Severus decided he would just have to wait and see.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

Harry rolled over on his side, evading his husband, the guilt he never did well with eating at him. It wasn't that he didn't want the comfort Severus offered - he just wasn't quite certain he deserved it right now. Maybe he needed time to wallow in it a bit, much as he'd been drowning in his unhappy thoughts all day.

He sincerely wished he could keep his fears as well contained as Severus did, but tonight, his less than stellar performance had proved him incapable. Embarrassment washed over him. He knew from his training it happened to every man at some point in his life, but did it have to happen to him? Tonight? Just when things were going so well? Couldn't it have at least waited until his second century when, with his luck, he'd be grateful he could get it up in the first place?

Feeling a tentative hand on his shoulder, he shrugged it off, not ready yet to face his lover's blatant sympathy. Instead he concentrated on forgetting it; one humiliation was more than enough without him replaying it over and over in his mind. He should be thinking instead about what had caused it.

All right. He could say it - at least to himself. He was afraid, plain and simple. Afraid of himself. Afraid of what he could do. Afraid of losing control, again. It was the control part he had problems with. Always had. Either he had none, which brought its own set of problems, like this morning, or he had too much, like tonight, which had frozen him into personal impotence.

Shit! He'd said he was _not_ going to think about _that_. Damn. If he couldn't even control his thoughts, how could he possibly expect to...? He took a deep breath, trying to still the panic. Wonderful. Either he took the chance of hurting someone, or he would live without sex the rest of his life. He wasn't happy with either option. He was too distracted, didn't feel a part of his own skin for some reason. It was hard to put into words this feeling of disconnection from himself.

The hand was back, only not so tentative as it stroked his arm, finally resting on the point of his shoulder. "Harry?"

He couldn't very well say, 'Go away', now could he? Especially since he'd already subjected Severus to one disappointment already tonight. Thinking he owed Severus _something_, he blurted out, "What am I, Severus?"

The bed dipped as his mate turned to face his back. He could feel Severus' sigh ghost over his spine. "You're Harry."

That was not the answer he'd expected. "No. _What_ am I?"

"All right, if you insist." Another sigh - of frustration? "You're my husband."

Mildly annoyed, Harry exclaimed, "Can't you be serious for just one moment?" feeling a bit foolish the moment the words left his mouth.

He could almost see that brow arching as Severus replied dryly, "You must be joking. I don't look anything like him." Harry frowned, belatedly realising the gesture was wasted. Severus' voice bore little contrition as he muttered, "All right, I admit my timing could have been better." Harry bit off a chuckle. "Well, actually, it wasn't all that terrible, was it?"

"It was awful, and you know it," he mumbled into his pillow, scooting back a little.

"I'm never 'off'," Severus rejoined, sliding close enough Harry could feel his body's heat on his back.

He knew what his husband was doing - it was his way of telling him everything was all right. It was hard to resist Severus when he was like this - playful and yet sincere, the dry humour meant to show affection - an attempt to cheer him up. It was quite thoughtful of him really, considering how high and dry he'd left him earlier this evening. Harry moved the inches necessary for them to touch, relieved when a strong arm snaked over his side to draw him close. He moved a leg back to hook one of Severus' between his until they were comfortably tangled.

"I'm sorry."

Soft lips nipped his shoulder. "Stop apologising - it happens."

"Not to me it doesn't," Harry whinged.

Severus stilled behind him. "Hmmm. I suspect we are addressing two different issues. I assume _you_ are referring to this evening?" Harry nodded, miserable. "Ah. I am speaking of this morning." Harry looked over his shoulder as Severus continued calmly, "On further reflection, they're not so dissimilar. Did not one cause the other?"

"Maybe," Harry temporized. He really didn't want to talk about it. Which was just as well considering how closed off the bond was to Severus right now; it might be a bit difficult to communicate without whining.

Steeling himself for the inevitable questions, he was surprised when Severus commented quietly, "I'm not certain I'm ready to leave Hana just yet." His hand rubbed circles on Harry's belly. "Despite our initial - adjustment - to each other, it's been quite - pleasant."

Harry nodded, wary of the subject change. "Yeah, we could have used more time. Seems like we just got here yesterday." He sighed, thinking over the last few days. "Too many ups and downs, though."

Severus nosed his nape, bestowing soft kisses once he had the hair out of the way. "True. Perhaps it's because here we don't necessarily exercise the same type of control we do at Hogwarts."

"Oh? How so?" Harry asked, interested despite himself.

"We are not the same people here that we are there; all the affectations we assume at Hogwarts in an effort to appear 'civilised' and 'proper' through someone else's artificial standards are unnecessary in Hana; there is little pressure to be whom we are not. Of course, once here, it takes a small while for us to - decompress - if you will, to shed the detritus we despise until all that remains are the people we could be. Or were meant to be."

The gentle hand on his stomach dropped, now concentrating on his hip and leg. He felt the first stirrings of arousal and leaned back to give Severus more room. Eyes closed, relaxing into his lover's touch, he murmured, "So you want to leave Hogwarts?"

Severus' voice was like velvet across his skin. "Perhaps. You must admit, there is a certain appeal in not being Harry Potter, 'Boy Who Lived' and slayer of Dark Lords, or Severus Snape, greasy Potions master and former spy. However, despite our respective notoriety, there is a certain anonymity gained by such titles as few look beyond them to see _us_. On the other hand, I rather like the notion that here I am Severus Snape, rider of horses, eccentric collector of centipedes, and owner of the 'Obake' house down on the beach."

Harry smiled, pushing back against the hardness matching his own. "And what does that make me?"

"Ah, Harry Potter, apprentice rock fisherman, _kahuna lapa'au_, and occasional _cute_ house pig of one Severus Snape."

Harry started to laugh, then stopped abruptly as the last part of Severus' comment sifted into his consciousness. His recent good humour fled along with his arousal. He started to pull away, but found himself caught firmly around the waist as Severus murmured, "Thought so. Forgive me, love, but you wouldn't say."

He thought about leaving the bed, but as the import of Severus' statement dawned on him, he knew it wouldn't be right, for even though Severus _had_ been his usual Slytherin self in trying to get him to open up, he had _not_ violated his privacy by prying. He felt no small amount of shame that this was far more consideration than _he'd_ given him over the last few days.

"Talk to me, love," Severus whispered.

"What is there to say? I lost control this morning, I gained it this evening. Neither one was pleasant." He bowed his head. "I am sorry."

"There is no need to be sorry," he said, kissing Harry's shoulder. "Let me help you."

"I'm not sure you can, Severus." He shrivelled inside at the plea in his lover's voice. "I can't even help myself. Everything is so - disjointed right now. How can I connect to you, if I can't even feel myself?"

"You're almost closed to me," Severus said raggedly. "I didn't realise until this evening how - lonely - it is."

He wanted so much what Severus was offering, wanted to _feel_ again. Not just the strong arms around him, the physical presence surrounding him, but the inner man, the one who unstintingly gave him everything he wanted - needed - even at his own cost. Was it so hard to do what he asked of him now?

"Help me, Severus," he whispered. "I don't know what to do."

He felt Severus' forehead rest against his shoulder as the body behind him lost most of its tension. The arm under him came up to grip his waist, the other his chest, and in one fluid movement, Severus rolled them so that Harry lay on top, his back to Severus' front. Harry set his feet flat on the bed while warm hands took his, raising his arms over his head to rest on the pillow, leaving him stretched, his body wide open to the hands trailing random patterns across his stippling skin.

This couldn't be comfortable for him. "Severus, I..."

"Shush. Relax." The hands, as soothing as the voice, continued their leisurely trek down his body; undemanding fingertips tickled across the hollows of his hips, his thighs, only to slide languidly up to his belly, a single tip skating around his navel. Melting against the firm body beneath him, his head dropped back to lay next to his lover's as the fears and concerns began to fly away on the wings of his tranquil touch.

"Yes, that's it," Severus whispered. "Lean back..." the hand dropped "...I'll take care of you." Gentle fingers slid across his chest. "Let go, love."

His apprehensive thoughts of the future faded in the wake of their bond gradually flowing over him as softly as the hand skimming his shaft.

"Mmmm. Feels good."

The light chuckle vibrated through his frame. "It's supposed to feel good." The sensations were light and pleasant, but not overly arousing, more like a gentle caress on the face than anything else. "Even a little good is never bad," the silky voice whispered, making him shiver. As if waiting for the reaction, the hand slid lower, until Harry moaned quietly in pleasure. "That's right - enjoy it," Severus breathed, his face resting against Harry's, lips nuzzling his skin when Harry turned his head slightly towards him.

His thoughts scattered, until he suddenly realised he couldn't feel anything in the body beneath him.

Sensation vanished as his previous uneasiness returned. "But you're not..."

Fingers circled caresses across his chest and throat. "Hush. There are no worries here." Was it the rich tone ghosting across his skin, or was it the hand, making a long, smooth sweep from his hip to the palm of his hand still held high above his head, that made him tremble? Liquid as warm honey, Severus' voice enveloped him. "It gives me pleasure to make you feel good."

The sincerity of the sentiment resonated through the awakening bond in a symphony of feather touches and smoky sultry syllables. Relinquishing control, he let Severus take over.

"That's right, surrender to it."

Slow, oh so slow, it spiralled through him.

"Surrender to us."

His cares and worries slipped away, leaving only the sensations rippling through him.

"Open for me, love."

He sank deeper into the bond, deeper into Severus.

"Let me feel you."

His lover's heart, felt through the muscles of his back, beat strongly. Severus' quickening breathing matched the rise and fall in his own chest.

"Through you, through me."

Through them. The hand on his chest fisted, then opened, pressing flat against his flushed skin, drawing him closer. The husky, "Almost there," rasped in his ear as his own hands, gripping the soft cotton beneath them, sought purchase, the pull making one body taut against the other.

Hotter and brighter they burned; wider and stronger the bond rejoined them.

"Ah, yes, that's it."

A tender, whispered command guided him over the edge - his lover, tightly bound, came with him. The heat flowed between them, out of them, the relief from the tension sharp. Spent, he fell limply against the boneless body beneath him.

A breathless chuckle tickled his ear. "See, wasn't that a bit of all right?"

Turning over, he settled in, kissing Severus. "I love you."

"I know," his lover murmured as he returned the gentle brush of pressing lips, light and uncomplicated. He pulled Harry down to lay half on top of him. "Do you understand now that all the rest doesn't really matter?" And something in the way he said it made Harry see a new resolve within Severus as well. A flicker of an image, gone before it even registered gave him the clue he needed to comprehend not only his mate's agitation earlier this morning, but how he could ensure Severus would never worry about it again.

Later, Harry slid into _his_ spot. Eyes closed, the steady heartbeat under his ear made this last task a bit easier to do as did the warm arms holding him fast. He loved Severus; no _thing_ was worth causing him grief, not if he could help it. "You know, I was thinking..."

"Always a dangerous thing..."

"Severus - do you mind?" he chided mildly.

"Very well - but it is." Harry drummed his fingers on his stomach. "Go on."

Mildly annoyed, Harry waited until Severus got restless. "Oh, all right. I'm-sorry-I-interrupted-you. There - satisfied?"

"It will suffice..." he said in his best Snape voice, chuckling at the snort he got in return "...for the moment."

"Picture me rolling my eyes. Now, did you, or did you not have something to say?"

"Yeah, I did," he said, sighing. This was harder than he'd originally thought. "We're not going to make it out here more than two, maybe three times a year, for short periods of time, are we?"

Severus ran a hand through Harry's hair. "No. Unless I can find some way to safely transport my potions long-distance, I will need to spend most of my summers at Hogwarts; however, that does not mean _you_ couldn't come out here more often and longer."

"Without you? Hardly. Wouldn't be any fun." He chuckled wryly. "Besides, where would I sleep? On the couch? You know how this bed hates single sleepers." Severus snorted. "In any event, I can't leave my practice as it is any longer than you can leave your potions," he concluded, feeling oddly sad.

Harry snuggled in deeper. Severus took a breath and released it, saying nothing. Finally, he asked, "This upsets you?"

"Not exactly, except that - you know, with us not being here all that often, it's a pity that Sirius' bike won't get used all that often and with the weather being what it is - I'm just a little worried it will rust away in the shed." He ignored the slight stiffening in the body beneath him. "Anyway, I was just wondering..." the heart under his head sped up "...since it's special to me and I want to make certain it doesn't just rot away..." the stomach muscles clenched under his hand "...do you think Albus will be terribly upset if I gave it to Remus?"

Harry smiled to himself as Severus sank into the bed with an almost inaudible sigh of relief as he readily replied, "I don't think Albus will mind at all once you explain it to him, and he knows that it's going to someone who will care for it in the manner it should be."

With Severus not mentioning the variety of preservation spells available, Harry knew he'd made the right decision - for whatever reason. And, who knew, perhaps he could catch a ride sometime with Remus without upsetting Severus too much. "Good. I'll ask Remus when we get back. I can't imagine him turning it down, but if so, maybe Ben would like it so he can go cruising with Kalani."

Severus chuckled; Harry liked the feel of it rumbling under his hand. "I suspect Ben prefers his horses, but one never knows."

Harry suspected Severus preferred them as well.

A hand beneath his chin tipped his head up to receive the serious kiss Severus bestowed, his lips warm and pliable over his own. He never tired of Severus' kisses and scooted up a bit to deepen it, to pull his mate closer, revelling in the feel of his lover's hand splayed gently against his throat, the tug of fingers buried in his hair as their mouths joined their hearts in that special way they'd always had of sharing each other.

Pulling back reluctantly, the hand at his throat moved up to gentle his face. He could barely see the dark fathomless eyes searching his, but clearly heard the whispered, "Thank you."

Harry nodded and with one final kiss, burrowed in, a smile of satisfaction on his lips. It didn't much matter what Severus was thanking him for, what was important was that he'd finally got it right, and with a lighter heart, he settled down to sleep.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

**Sunday 2 November 2003 HST to GMT**

"Shhh. Quiet," Harry whispered to Ben as he and Kalani walked up to the lanai in the early morning light.

Ben looked over Harry's shoulder, his eyes widening. He leaned over, setting down the covered basket he carried, and whispered back, "What the hell is he doing?"

Harry chuckled. "He found a bug he wants and he's trying to catch it. Damn thing's been eluding him all week." He smiled at the odd sight of his husband on his knees, half under the bench, his arse sticking far up into the air.

Kalani looked around Ben and, eyeing the back half, wolf-whistled softly. "Ho, Harry. I can see why you like him so much," he teased.

"Kalani!" Harry exclaimed just as Severus cried out in triumph, "Got the bugger!"

Unfortunately, he misjudged the distance and banged his head on the bottom of the bench With a yelp of pain, he sat back on his heels, holding something large, brown, and wiggly with his thumb and forefinger. Rubbing the back of his head with one hand, he turned the other this way and that, examining his hard-earned prize.

Excited, he stood and made his way over to the others standing stock still, the insect held out before him. "Look what I caught - it's absolutely perfect!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with delight.

When he arrived, the insect still gripped firmly, Harry pulled his head back in distaste. "Yuck. That is one _ugly_ bug. What is it?"

Ben started chuckling and before Severus could reply, he answered, "_Periplaneta Americana_, also known as the American Cockroach. Nice specimen, by the way," he added, calmly studying the two inch long insect. "She's about ready to lay her eggs, so if you're careful, you can harvest the babies, too."

Kalani just sat down on the stair leaning against the rail. Ben glanced over at him, obviously trying to stifle a laugh and not quite succeeding. Severus eyed them both suspiciously and glanced over to Harry, who shrugged. "What, might I enquire, is so amusing," he asked, straightening.

"Sorry, Severus," Kalani chortled. "Eh, Ben. Centipedes, moths, crickets, and now cock-a-roaches. Maybe we should just open up a Potions supply business. We could make millions!"

"Not a bad idea. We could call it 'Chitin Chan's'." Kalani lost it, his eyes squeezed shut as he held his stomach, rocking on the step, his laughter shaking his whole body. Harry could tell Ben wanted to laugh just as badly, but his glances at Severus kept him from showing it.

Harry smiled to himself; he really didn't see the joke, but Kalani's silent guffaws were so infectious he could see Severus' lips twitching as he studied the flailing insect still in his grip. Harry moved his face in for a closer look. "Are those leg barbs as wicked as they look?"

Severus answered seriously, "Sting a bit like nettles, but not too badly. Almost looks intelligent, doesn't it?"

Harry straightened. "Nah. It just knows it's going to get parboiled in the near future, so don't anthropomorphise it any more than you have to."

He stuck his tongue out at Severus' raised brow, laughing outright when Severus muttered, "Drowned - it's a cold fire."

Wiping tears from his eyes, Kalani asked, "Eh, Severus. You want for us to get you some of those, too?"

Avarice won over pride as Severus said, "I can always use them. I usually import them a jar at a time; they survive our cold quite well and, in a good year, I can breed about half the supply I need. However, it would save me time if I didn't have to..."

"What are they used for?" Ben asked, curious.

"Finally, something I can answer," Harry said. "Never seen one quite like this before, not sure I really want to again, but the hard-shell roaches are a primary ingredient in a lot of the bone-mending potions, like _Skele-Gro_." He turned to Severus with a shudder. "You keep _these_ in the dungeons?"

Severus shrugged. "In a specially warded aquarium in the back storeroom. They seem to thrive in dark, moist places and eat just about anything, although they're rather fond of parchment."

"So that's how you get rid of the essays. Remind me never to go back there," Harry muttered.

"Your wards are set to keep them out of the house," Ben remarked, "but that won't stop us from getting you some right now if you want." When Severus nodded, he asked, "You have a jar with a tight lid?"

"I think so - in the kitchen," Harry said, moving into the house. A few minutes later, after rummaging in the bin, he found an empty mayonnaise jar. A tap of his wand later and it was spotless. As an afterthought, he banished the remainder of the garbage. He brought it back out with him. "Is this all right?"

"Perfect," Ben said, handing the jar and lid to Kalani after Severus had dropped his specimen inside. "Just like we practiced," he murmured to his husband, who suddenly seemed nervous.

"Here, you hold the lid," Kalani said, handing it to Ben. Drawing his wand, he swallowed hard and closed his eyes. Ben placed a hand on his shoulder, his eyes glazing in concentration. Harry glanced at Severus, who was watching the scene intently.

Kalani held the jar away from him and, with the requisite wands movements, he tapped the top of the open mouth, calling out, "_Accio B-52_." At first nothing happened and then, right on the edge of hearing, Harry heard a buzzing noise that grew louder with every second. Soon there was too much to watch as one by one, huge cockroaches flew into the jar, the noise of their wings quite offensive. At the same time he noticed Ben carefully removing his hand until his husband stood alone, the magic bringing the insects to Kalani all his own.

There was a simple pride and love in the act that made Harry's heart sing. When Severus unexpectedly took his hand, he could sense Severus felt the same and was moved by it. They watched the container slowly fill, the bugs inside crawling over each other, scrambling against the smooth glass trying to get out, only to be thwarted by the inverted lip of the jar. When it was about two-thirds full, Kalani dropped his wand hand as the last one sailed in; Ben clapped the lid on, screwing it tightly shut.

"Here you go - first order filled - on the house," Ben said, handing the jar to Severus. With his quizzical look, Ben chuckled. "It means free of charge."

"Ah, thank you." Severus pulled his wand and cast a ward around the jar and another spell Harry didn't recognize. "There, they can breathe now and we won't have to worry about them crawling in the luggage."

"_You_ won't have to worry about it," Harry said, eyeing the roiling mass with a moue of distaste. "_I_ am not unpacking, this time." He shivered. "Far too many creepies, this trip."

Severus chuckled as he opened one of the bags sitting off to the side on the lanai, carefully wrapping the jar in a shirt before placing it in next to a jar of centipedes Kalani had brought for them the day before.

"Hey! That's _my_ shirt!" Harry cried, horrified.

Severus shrugged, a smile playing about his mouth. "It was handiest."

Harry marched over to the bag and opened it, looking over all the specimens Severus had packed. "These are _all_ my shirts!"

Chuckling, Severus replied, "What can I say? It's your bag, too."

Harry shut his mouth; he would deal with this - him - later.

After a succulent breakfast, Ben checked his watch. "You said 10:00 o'clock, and it's almost that now."

Severus looked around at the ocean over the railing with a gusty sigh. "I'm going to miss this place," he murmured, standing from the table, "but we must be getting back. It will be after midnight before we get settled in, and I have classes to teach tomorrow."

"Well, we'll let you say goodbye in private," Ben said, offering his hand. Severus took it and unexpectedly drew Ben into a hug. "Thank you - for everything," he said, pulling back. Kalani and Harry had already said their goodbyes and, after Harry hugged Ben almost as fiercely as he'd hugged Kalani, their two friends left via Kalani's scooter. Standing at the edge of the lanai, Harry and Severus waved until the two were mere specks in the distance.

His arm around Harry's shoulder, Severus murmured, "I hope someday we can call this place home."

Harry could feel Severus' melancholy pulling at him. He'd never realised until now, just how much of him, of them, was tied to this place - from their reconciliation last summer, to their Banns, to the intents and wishes of their friends contained in their vows, to their home and the understandings reached therein this past week. All positive things on which they could build their future. But there was also their past with which to contend; until they found resolution between them, they would remain forever held by two places.

"It's already home, as is Hogwarts; both bear parts of _us_. However, the only real 'home' I've _ever_ had was you, love, and you're all I'll ever need. As long as we're together, we carry our own light wherever we are. This just happens to be the best place of them all."

His eyes telling Harry a story of their own, Severus pulled Harry close into a serious kiss, the Portkey in his hand activating unnoticed at the appointed time just as he pulled Harry tighter to him. A few moments later, disoriented, they stumbled apart at the Apparation point at the edge of Hogwarts. Shivering hands dug into one of the bags, drawing out winter cloaks and scarves; with sighs of relief, they threw them on to ward off the crisp winter wind.

"Damn, that's rude!" Harry exclaimed, huddling into the heavy woolen garment. Severus chuckled, taking his hand, and the two of them walked briskly up to the castle, their bags floating obediently behind them. No one met them at the door this time; regretfully their hands parted as they reluctantly stepped into a world where most folk did not approve of their relationship, forcing them to conceal it from common view.

With few words other than a brief 'discussion' of what came first, they went to Severus' private lab where Harry insisted his spouse remove all the specimens, both plant and - other, from their bags. While Severus placed everything in the back storage room, Harry sat at his desk going through the pile of Owls awaiting his husband's perusal, separating them into piles to make it easier for him to read it all - or all that was relevant.

Not much later they arrived at their quarters.

Harry knew Severus would have a hard time sleeping; to them it was only 11:30 in the morning. "I'll unpack the remainder of our bags tomorrow; I have no appointments until Wednesday. We should try to sleep."

"All right, although I'm not certain I can. It's too early."

"Oh, I'm sure I can think of _something_ to tire you out," Harry said, waggling his brows.

Severus snorted. "Indeed," he said, lowering the wards. He opened the door and, after hanging their cloaks on the hooks in the entry, they strode into the apartment - and stopped short, their bags clattering to the floor behind them.

Harry looked all around him - and up. And up. And up.

"What the hell?" Severus growled.

Harry knew exactly what he meant as he replied faintly, "Damn, that's twice in one week..."

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

TBC


	44. Part III : Towering Impressions

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Forty Four : Towering Impressions**

**Sunday 2 November 2003**

"_Lumos_."

"How much further? Can you see?"

"It's blacker than a hag's arse up here," Severus muttered, holding his wand high in front of him.

"Brrr - and cold," Harry complained through chattering teeth.

Canting his body forward as he peered into the total blackness, Severus replied, "Hmmm, one would think Albus could have at least provided a little heat at this altitude."

Harry laughed nervously. "Severus, it's only a few storeys up."

Severus' raised brow in the wandlight was positively diabolical. "Oh? Can _you_ see the floor?"

Leaning over a rail he only knew was there because his hand was on it, Harry would have thought he was suspended in nothingness for all he could see - if it weren't for the reassuring surface beneath his boots. "Ho! Where are our quarters?"

"I suspect we left them over a turn ago," Severus replied wryly. "In fact, I'm thinking we need to turn around and go back; we'll not know what purpose this section serves until Albus is good and ready for us to do so."

Harry nodded thoughtfully as they began a slow, cautious descent back the way they'd come, chuckling quietly because it suddenly occurred to him that Severus probably couldn't see the gesture.

A few moments later, the lit wand drew closer and Severus' hand fell on his shoulder from behind, squeezing it reassuringly as he whispered "Nox," extinguishing the light. Breathing a small sigh of relief, Harry murmured his thanks. Seemed silly for a grown man to hate the dark as he did, but wandlight never helped; it just made the dark parts more sinister. Holding onto Severus' presence like a talisman against an old panic, Harry distracted himself further by trying to piece together what they'd seen so far; surreal and almost manic, it was all so confusing.

That first step from the front entry into their 'new' quarters had been startling, to say the least. At first he'd thought they'd been portalled outdoors, but a blink, and a longer look around, soon corrected that first impression; they actually stood on the edge of a multi-storey, stone rotunda at least forty feet across.

"What the hell?" Severus had growled, marching to the centre, where a rolled parchment hung suspended at waist level.

His head reeling from a strong sense of lingering magic, Harry had felt the idiot when the most intellect he could muster was counting the unbroken columns (there were eight) soaring high to what appeared to be a glass domed ceiling far above them.

While he'd ogled (wondering where the diffuse, yet bright, lighting originated), Severus unrolled the parchment to reveal a floor plan with a small note attached. Harry never did get to see its contents. With an, "I'll be damned," and a scowl, Severus banished it in a puff of green smoke, which was followed by a heated comment about Albus having some serious explaining to do.

Harry hadn't replied; to his mind this was a given.

While Severus continued muttering inarticulate imprecations against the headmaster, the wispy remnants of Albus' communication had floated up the voluminous space. Watching its lazy climb, Harry regained his inner balance, wondering why the whole thing seemed so familiar. When he couldn't place it, he gave himself a shake and a scolding for being so fanciful.

Curious, he'd taken the few steps necessary to peer over Severus' outstretched arms holding the floor plan and chuckled.

"What, may I ask, do you find so amusing?" Severus had asked with some asperity.

Laughing softly, Harry ducked under the arm nearest him and, taking one side of the plan in hand, pressed his back lightly against the warm chest. He pointed to two dots (resting in their relative positions) in the centre of what represented the rotunda; the one on top bore an 'HSP', the other read, 'SSP'. "Look! It's just like the Marauder's Map."

Severus sniffed. "Sans that ridiculous password," he replied sourly as he wrapped an arm securely around Harry's waist. Resting his chin on Harry's shoulder, his breath warm against his cheek, Severus silently studied the parchment.

Harry's eyes flicked between the labelled paper rooms and the spaces around them. There were six openings piercing the smooth stone forming the base of the rotunda. Orienting himself, he pointed his thumb behind them, saying, "_The Entry_." He moved a finger clockwise and pointed to his left, "an alcove with _The Bedroom Suite_, and the _Stair Down to Pool_." He looked over his shoulder at his spouse, who was staring off into some unknown distance.

Just for something to say, he stated the obvious. "That's new." Receiving no response (not that he'd truly thought he would get one), he continued comparing the plans to the reality. His fingers swung past a large expanse of blank wall to a series of three deep, doorless openings immediately opposite the entry. "_The Dining Nook_, _The Sitting Room_, and _The Auld Sod's Study_." He'd snickered at an outraged huff of air on his cheek. Skipping over another large blank wall (which grew shorter until it reached another alcove at its bottom) he continued, "The entrance to _The Ramp_ - well, that's new, too - and _The Boy's Study_." He ignored Severus' chuckle. He looked again over his shoulder, pleased to see that his spouse was smiling (well, saying he smiled was like saying the Mona Lisa grinned - with Severus it was more of an eye thing than a mouth thing).

While perplexed with his husband's continuing introspection, he found it impossible to complain when the spouse in question nuzzled his neck. He leant his head back, planting a kiss on Severus' jaw, responding to an intuition that it was he who comforting rather than the other way around. Odd that - as had been a decided lack of internal 'comments' flowing between them. Whatever disturbed his mate was either deeply private or else Severus wasn't secure enough about it himself to say anything - or both.

Wanting to distract him, Harry had been about to suggest they investigate the rooms when Severus murmured, "I wonder if..." and then, startling as if suddenly realising where he was, he'd moved away, stating firmly, "I want to see that ramp."

It had been as good a place to start as any and Harry had felt the unspoken 'need' missing from Severus' statement.

Turning to face what had been behind them, they'd studied the entry to their quarters. Harry's gaze followed Severus' up the side of the rotunda, noting that the ramp (which ascended anticlockwise) was open and airy once it cleared the solid walls of its base, spiralling until it reached the domed skylight high above.

They'd moved to a wide alcove just to the left of the entry. Flanked by two smooth columns, it held (facing each other) the entry to the ramp on their left and a doorless opening to the right. Stopping Severus from stepping onto the ramp's incline, Harry darted into the space which had been marked _The Boy's Study_. Taking a fast glance around, he'd left quickly, not needing nor wanting more than a few seconds to take it all in.

With a touch to his shoulder, Severus had asked patiently, "Well?"

Moments passed before he could summon a reply, moments in which he'd struggled to contain the old emotions the room had engendered. "It's funny, I lived ten years of my life in a dark cupboard," he'd said, shunting the bleak memories aside, "and the next seven in a dormitory I shared with other people." He glanced back at the opening and sighed. "Never had any real space to speak of until I moved in with you - and I liked it, liked how open it was." He looked around the Rotunda. "And while this _is_ nice and airy - well, I'll miss it."

Severus made a noise in his throat. "Come here," he'd said softly, folding him in his arms.

When growing up, Harry would have given everything to feel as safe and warm and loved as he did whenever Severus held him. Nothing bad could touch him here. His life was no longer driven by fear; his hopes were never defined by empty wishes, and he supposed his current contentment was why the resurgence of the old feelings had left him so shaken.

"It's a _horrid_ little room, not much larger than a service closet," he said sadly, his cheek resting on Severus' shoulder. "While it _does_ have a fireplace big enough one can stand in and the cabinets look useful, there's no windows, no light; I can't imagine the fish will be too happy in there without their sun in the morning. Don't think I will be either," he finished almost on a whisper.

He'd pulled away a bit, not wanting to think about it anymore; there were other areas to explore more important than his one tiny room. "It doesn't matter. Maybe it will look different during the day. I'll work with Dobby tomorrow - see what we can do; I don't need much space and with all the cupboards..."

Severus' eyes had held a world of understanding. "Perhaps, but you don't really believe that, do you?" When he'd hesitated and then shook his head, Severus kissed his forehead. "Perhaps you can find somewhere else for your fish? Cally would be devastated should you get rid of them."

Harry secretly thought Severus might miss them as well, and feeling a bit more hopeful about the whole thing, they'd started up the steep ramp.

The decision to explore the ramp they now descended had seemed simple at first, but had soon turned into a grand adventure. Wide enough for them to walk comfortably side by side, its book-lined walls were broken at irregular intervals by several plain and ornate doors. They'd passed eight on the way up, three of which could be opened

They'd found the first one, made of aged copper, near the bottom of the ramp. Its verdigris face bore a sculpted cauldron with swirls of vapour rising from a wide lip. In front of it stood a lopsided set of scales, the high side bearing a likeness of the gold weights Severus used, the lower sporting a large frog, its long sticky tongue extended as it caught a fly. A handful of neatly lined weights, gilded a gleaming gold like their counterparts on the balance, waited at its base for the final reckoning. When Severus had cautiously tried the handle, they'd found themselves entering his private lab exactly as they'd left it less than an hour before.

"Could be useful," he'd murmured, closing and warding it before moving on.

They next found two plain doors which resisted even the most stringent unlocking spell. When Harry couldn't even open them as he had Severus' cabinets years ago, he'd shook his head and silently agreed when his spouse remarked acidly, "Meddling old fart."

Severus stopped several times along the way to peruse the book titles. Harry had looked them over as well, but very few were familiar to him. Not that he was all that surprised; Severus had books tucked away in the oddest places in their old quarters - there was no telling how many he'd collected over the years. The third time Severus made one of his 'I'm-not-happy' noises, Harry put his hand on his arm. Judging from the thunderous expression gathering on his spouse's face, he should step out of the way before he got caught in the backlash of suppressed anger.

However, no one could ever accuse him of being sensible, so he put his sneakier Slytherin self aside and opted for the more direct Gryffindor approach. "Severus, is there a problem?"

It took Severus a few seconds for the question to register before he hissed, "These are all Albus' books!"

Harry's eyes travelled both directions at the seemingly endless bookcases. "Are none of these yours?" he asked reasonably, trying to keep his voice neutral.

His calm seemed to be working as Severus took a deep breath before replying, "Some. Actually all of mine and some of yours are here as well. Our more 'private' collection seems to be missing, although," he glanced up the ramp, "there is still more to explore."

The Gryffindor half won again when he said, "Well, we could just stand here and bitch about it, or we could move on and see what else the bugger has in store for us. What would be your pleasure?"

Severus' glare would have melted a cauldron, but at least they were climbing again.

Not far after, they'd found another decorated door, its purplewood face carved with a bas relief of a forest floor, complete with a tiny snake staring at them from its hiding place under the curling mountain ferns and angel cap mushrooms. A turn of the knob revealed their greenhouse, with Horatio visibly coiled under the near foliage. A brief conversation with the sleepy snake did little to dispel their curiosity as he'd told Harry he'd not stirred for several days since finding a whole cache of eggs nor had he noticed anything amiss.

Climbing onward, Harry had noticed, as they approached the beginning of the third level, a short stone column upon which sat a grotesque stone gargoyle; there'd been one at every level's end. Curious, he stopped ascending to take a closer look, walking to within a pace of it. Rather like a monkey, its huge ears stuck straight out from the sides of its round face which was topped by a tiny pointed cap. Sitting on its haunches with elbows resting on its bony knees, it held its chin in the palms of both hands with a look of utter boredom. As he moved his head to peek at the bat-like wings folded neatly down its back, he could have sworn he saw the eyes follow him.

Not that he would have been too surprised had it really done so. On impulse, he put his face close to see the impossible detail of its carving and jumped back with a small cry when, with loose flapping lips, it belched at him.

"What the..." Severus said from right behind him.

Heart pounding from the fright, Harry gave a weak chuckle. "More of Albus' whimsy, I assume."

Severus stood in front of it, scowling, his arms folded across his chest. Leaning in much the same way Harry had, he pulled back quickly as the gargoyle blew a long protracted raspberry at him. "Lovely," he murmured, wiping his face with a handkerchief.

Putting it back in his sleeve, he turned to leave, and wand drawn, suddenly threw a hex at it before Harry had even blinked. The gargoyle faded an instant before the hex hit and reappeared when it passed, harmlessly dissipating against the bookcase behind. When the odious creature stuck its thumbs in its ears, wiggling short stubby fingers at Severus with a "Nah-nah-NAH-nah-nah," in a high pitched, helium voice, Harry couldn't help it; the laugh burst out of him. The exasperated, "Good gads!" as he walked away just made it worse.

Some moments later, still chuckling, Harry watched it watch Severus' retreating back with an expression of wistful sadness. Almost feeling sorry for it, he cleared his throat and said softly, "If your purpose is to make him laugh, you're going to have to be a bit more intellectual about it. Severus never has struck me as a slap-stick kind of chap." His reward for the hint was a huge grin and a nod. Shaking his head, he moved on to rejoin Severus.

Half a turn later, they almost missed the third door and would have, had Harry not stopped them.

"What's wrong?" Severus had asked, his brow creased in concern.

Harry's fingers pressed into his scar. "Tingles a bit, almost like..." he said, investigating the nearby wall. Severus joined him and within moments they discovered the door cleverly hidden to look like the bookcases surrounding it. His eyes searching the unfamiliar titles, Harry had instinctively placed his hand on the book, _The Symbology of Amulets_, and whispered, "_Defendo Maritas_." Soundlessly, the wall swung away, the protected library behind it. Nothing had been disturbed, the glyph was inactive, and since this room, like the other two before it, were in Wizarding space, they relaxed a bit, assuming just the portals had been changed.

They'd climbed five turns total, the gargoyle greeting them at each level change, before it had gone shadowy, then dark, the way seemingly endless.

Now, as they fully re-entered the light, Harry wondered how long they would have been climbing had they not decided to turn back. On a whim, he looked up and chuckled. Severus stopped and followed his gaze; despite the _four_ levels they'd just descended (each marked by a familiar belching sound), the ceiling was only a storey away.

"Hmph," Severus grunted. "Wizarding space - reminds me of some Muggle prints Flitwick collects. Esther? Ascher? Escher?" He waved his hand dismissively. "We may never know what's up there."

"Nah - Albus likes the drama, he likes to tease." He shook his head. "He's not capable of withholding it - he'd eat his own beard first. Face it, for Albus, the ending is everything - the journey there is just a farce that gets in the way of the conclusion."

Severus had snorted - a typical reaction when discussing the capricious headmaster. Harry was just glad to see he'd calmed down a bit.

Continuing down the ramp-way, Harry studied the rotunda it encircled, thinking the whole thing airy and open, and he had to wonder why it was even necessary in the first place; they'd been quite content with their rooms before.

He listened to the growing irritation (and something else - wariness? anxiety?) in Severus' voice as he counted eleven doors under his breath; the three they'd noted on the way up were still there, but not in reverse order. And their little companion followed them the whole way, just on the edge of sight until one came to a column, then it appeared in full view. There were no more tricks, its eyes almost thoughtful as it watched Severus pass, ignoring it in the manner of someone actually watching it closely. Harry couldn't wait to see what antics the little fellow got up to in the future, but wisely, he remained silent on the subject.

When they reached the bottom again, feet firmly planted on the polished stone of the rotunda floor, Harry asked, "Where to next?"

"Do you have a preference?"

"Not really, but I suppose we could leave the bedroom til last since we need to use it sometime soon anyway," he hinted.

His mouth twisted in a smile, Severus unrolled the parchment, glancing at the plan. "All right, then," he remarked, pointing forward, "_The Dining Nook_ it is."

They bypassed the wide alcove leading to their bedroom, heading instead towards an opening set between two supporting columns. Walking between the deep, stone walled entrance, Harry realised they were actually passing under the ramp. Eyeing the mess of furniture in the centre of the much larger room, he dryly remarked, "Well, I now know where the window in my study went," noting the second bay of windows where before had only been one.

Severus sighed, obviously resigned to the unpleasant task, and drew his wand. "Looks like we have a bit of work to do."

Harry put a hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Sev. Unless you're just dying to help me move the furniture around, I'll do it tomorrow with Dobby. That is, if you _trust_ me to do so," he added with a wink.

Severus chuckled. "Knowing my luck, you'll set my seat _on_ the table."

Harry waggled his brows. "Hmmm. Interesting notion, although I daresay your chair wouldn't fit - might be adequate for serving up a small Severus snack, though."

While Severus snickered, Harry walked over to investigate the window seats curving along the edge. While it was too dark to really tell, the view seemed different, but that didn't stop him from straining, trying to place the bits he could see. He returned to the table and had Severus unroll the plan. Pointing, he mused, "You know, I hadn't realised this symbol meant windows - given the shapes of the rest of the rooms, I think we may be in an upper tower."

Which comment had earned him a sharp glance and a disdainful sniff. "We entered through the dungeons," Severus began, "however, I suppose, given how much Wizarding space is already in use here, it is not out of the realm of possibility that Albus kept the entrance the same just to placate me."

"Placate you?" Harry asked, brows raised.

"I have a reputation to maintain," he said without conceit. "Can you imagine the speculation if _I_ moved out of the dungeons? Not to mention how difficult it would be to control my Slytherin snakelets were I not in close proximity?"

Point taken. "'Severus Snape', 'Potions master', and 'The Dungeons' are rather synonymous, aren't they? Rather like a trademark." When Severus shook his head, Harry commented, "Well, no one but us comes here except sometimes Albus or the staff, so I guess your secret is safe. It _feels_ like the dungeons, though, in a safe kind of way, just missing all the - icky - stuff."

"No, I think you had the right of it the first time," Severus said sadly, looking oddly bereft. "It's too - light."

"Light?" Harry asked, placing his hands on his shoulders.

Severus took the comfort he offered, wrapping his arms around him, drawing him close as he murmured, "There's no - weight. For all that the walls are thick and heavy and substantial it's not a part of the inner foundation - one cannot feel the castle pressing down on it."

"And you'll miss that?" Harry asked, surprised at the light sweat he could feel dampening Severus' hair and neck.

"Perhaps. It's just - different."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he kissed him and they moved on.

Next came _The Sitting Room_, the furniture again occupying the middle. Skirting the pile, Harry whistled when he stepped fully inside; once small and cosy it now had three window bays with deep seats. Two pass-through fireplaces graced either end of the long room, both with blazes cheerfully warming the ungainly space.

"Well, at least it's warmer in here than it was before," was Severus' only comment as he hastily left the chamber.

"Are you all right, love?" Harry asked once they were back in the rotunda. He ran his hands down Severus' arms.

"I..." Severus began and stopped, looking all around them. He finally took Harry's hands and bestowed a chaste kiss to his cheek. "I'll be fine," he said, sounding almost convinced. "I may suggest and cause sweeping changes in all manner of things, but I don't necessarily," he took a deep breath, "do well when suddenly subjected to them." He gave Harry a self-deprecating smile. "I just need some time to adjust."

"That and a good yell at Albus?"

"That, too," he said absently, glancing to the side at the entrance to his study, deeply set between two more pillars. Straightening his shoulders, he stated, "Might as well get it over with..."

When they boldly walked into it through the third deep opening under the ramp, Severus' stiffness eased as he breathed a nearly inaudible sigh of relief. "We didn't move this," he commented, running his hand over his desk. "It's still in the dungeons."

Harry stifled the immediate question about 'we', focusing instead on Severus' better spirits. He could feel what he meant about the 'weight' now that he had something with which to compare it. "It's almost like being in a cave."

"Precisely," Severus murmured as he breathed deeply of the familiar scents.

He knew where Severus would be spending most of his time.

While Severus checked all his personal belongings, Harry cruised the perimeter. He stopped at the back when he saw the book, _The Symbology of Amulets_. Curious at the duplication, he touched his fingertips to the spine, jerking them away when he felt the latent power contained therein.

"Severus!" he said sharply, pointing to the volume.

Severus was at his side in an instant. He drew his wand and placed his fingers on the book, closing his eyes. A few moments later he whispered, "_Dìon m'leannan_." Soundlessly, the library opened as it always had in the past. They glanced around the room, identical to the one they'd opened earlier in the evening off the ramp. "Why on earth would there be two openings?" Severus asked, bemused, as he closed and re-warded the room.

Harry shrugged. "Convenience?" he ventured.

"Perhaps," he muttered, the word clipped short.

Harry knew _that_ tone well; a quick glance confirmed it - Severus had a mystery between his teeth and would be hard-pressed to release it until it was solved, which did not bode well for sleeping any time soon. Keeping his tone light, he said, "Severus, whatever it is - can it keep until the morning?"

With a snort and rueful chuckle, Severus replied softly, "Perhaps," this one with an entirely different meaning as his eyes flicked to the clock on the mantel. "Shall we...?" he asked, extending his arm in invitation.

As they walked arm-in-arm to their bedroom, Harry remarked, "Good thing we're used to napping at this time every afternoon, else we'd never get to sleep."

For the third time, Severus replied, "Perhaps," this time with suppressed humour.

Almost inured to the changes, Harry nonetheless held his breath when they entered the alcove holding the entrance to their bedroom. To the left was a blank wall, to the right an opening. Standing in the doorway to their bedroom, he immediately noted their wardrobes were now to his left; beyond them, near the first of three bays of windows (complete with seats) was the door to their toilet room. Inside the spacious bedroom, the fireplace was larger and off to the far side now, beyond their four-poster; he noted Severus eyeing the large rug in front it and couldn't quite hide the grin as he thought of how all that open space could be employed. To the side was the entrance to a small storage closet, but the entry within it to their bathing pool was gone.

That was now accessed by a stairway just outside the door to their suite, running under the ramp above. Descending, they'd not stayed long as the pool seemed as it always had been, just one level down. Severus thought this an improvement. "Less worry about the damp," he said, running his hands over the stone walls sans the shelves that used to line the walls. "I have to admit, now that I've seen it, I prefer all the books in one place - makes it easier to sort them."

Harry rather missed the jumble.

Back in their room, as he got undressed, Harry groused, "Hey! No fair - you get the side with the fireplace."

Severus raised a brow as he crawled under the heavy duvet, his back to the cosy blaze. "Oh? Seems perfectly fair to me. You steal all my body heat not to mention all the covers..."

"I do not!"

"...do, too - even the sheets." Settling in with a decadent groan, he drawled, "Tomorrow I'll wake first, freezing, while you slumber in a nest of purloined bedclothes. Then, while you lounge around all morning, I'll have to endure an insufferably cheerful Dumbledore - in public, mind you, so I won't even get in a good insult - and _then_ I'll dodge cauldrons all morning attempting to teach Double Potions to my Slytherin/Gryffindor fifth years."

Harry crawled under the covers, shivering. "Oh, poor baby!" he said, scooting over to _share_ (he did not steal!) the warmth on Severus' side of the bed. "Are those the ones with the elephant ears?"

Severus replied, yawning, "No, that's my Slytherin/Gryffindor fourth years tomorrow afternoon." He extended his arm with a growled, "Heat poacher," as Harry slid in.

Ah - bliss. Merlin, Severus was toasty.

"Ah - hell!" Severus' skin twitched. "Thermal thief!

Harry snuggled, imagining his skin sizzling nicely wherever they touched. Sniggering, he retorted, "Fire filcher."

"Blanket bandit," Severus muttered, shivering as he pulled Harry closer to him.

Harry yelped. "Damn! Well, at least I don't have cold feet." He tried to squirm his legs away from Severus', but they were hopelessly tangled. "Where're your socks?"

"I hate wearing socks to bed," Severus grumbled, deliberately rubbing his icy feet on Harry's warm leg, earning him another yowl. "And my feet are not cold."

Indignantly Harry chuffed, "Well, not anymore - _they're_ warm and now _my_ legs are cold."

Extinguishing the lights, his mouth questing across Harry's face, Severus suggested, "There are - other - ways to warm them up..."

"Mmmm. I could live with that." Harry felt a hand snake under the covers and gasped when it stopped, "Oh! Yeah. Wrong leg, but who am I..."

Harry found verbal conversation impossible with an agile tongue exploring his mouth and, not too long after, couldn't quite remember what it was he'd wanted to say.

A bit warm, though.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

TBC


	45. Part III : Missing Impressions

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Forty Five : Missing Impressions**

**Monday 3 November 2003**

The shadowy dream left him in stages until all that remained was a vague sense of disquiet and then - nothing. He lay curled on his side, blinking in the harsh light from the open draperies, the sun falling full across the bed. Wondering for only a moment where he was, Harry jerked wide awake when his questing hand found the cold empty spot next to him. Realising Severus had let him sleep (but without his morning snack, thank you very much), he sat up grumpily, his movement dislodging a piece of parchment resting on the covers. He leant over the side of the bed, hand extended to snag the errant scrap. Unsuccessful and loathe to leave the bed just yet, he grabbed his wand instead, saying, "_Accio note_." With lazy satisfaction he caught the paper as it sailed to his waiting hand.

Unfolding it, he read through it quickly:

_Not only do you hog the covers, you snore. Loudly. I'm off to slay wily headmasters and recalcitrant students; I'll meet you for lunch in the Great Hall if you can tear yourself away from your busy social calendar._

_S_

_PS. We need to discuss where we will leave our notes in the future. This one has failed twice to stay on the bed as your heavy breathing dislocates it (have I mentioned that you snore?) and, frankly, I have only one thing I want to get blown..._

He laughed at the impatient postscript; the wavering writing and a small ink splotch on the coverlet told him his spouse had quickly penned it on the bed, more than likely with the new fountain pen he'd acquired in Hana from the hotel shop. Happy to see Severus was actually enjoying his first morning back, Harry cheerfully climbed out of bed, shivering in the sudden cold and hastily donned his dressing gown, which Severus had thoughtfully laid across the foot of the bed. In short order, his morning ablutions complete (and he really did like the lavatory at the window), he finished their unpacking with a few flicks of his wand. Satisfied that, at least here, all was in order, he went to the dining nook, calling for Dobby to please bring him breakfast.

While he waited, he took stock of the 'nook', deciding it was misnamed now that it was twice the size it used to be. Studying the ancient sideboard Severus had found at his favourite shop in Wales, he tried to place what was different about it (aside from the obvious that it was now installed under one of the window bays on the left side of the chamber). After counting the pairs of carved doors mounted on the front, he realised two more sets had been seamlessly added to the right-hand side, the new curving counter sporting a small deep sink. Quite an improvement to his own mind, although he couldn't begin to guess how Severus would react to someone modifying one of his prized antiques.

However, he had more immediate concerns to occupy him - such as fitting their old furniture in the new spaces. After a few false starts, he decided he preferred the tighter arrangement of their square table and four chairs tucked off to the left, in front of the sideboard; it gave a closer approximation of its former intimacy. This left the right side (with the fireplace) woefully bare, but he thought a couch might serve nicely, a place to sleep off a heavy meal, perhaps. He'd ask Dobby when he arrived.

Staring out the window, he saw their view was much the same as before, only rotated clockwise a bit. They were still at the same elevation as far as he could tell and not in an upper tower, but now the view was equally divided between the moors to the left (where they used to be the main view) with the lake to the right (where it used to be barely visible). Not unsatisfying, just odd - much like Severus' almost desperate demeanor last night.

How _kapakahi_ it all seemed: normal on the surface and odd underneath. Severus had been hiding something, but unlike his previous secrecy, this one felt - different - almost as if he were compelled to silence rather than voluntarily withholding anything. Nor was the reticence solely limited to his spouse. The instant they'd stepped from the entry into the rotunda, he'd felt a small portion of their bond close to him; as there'd been an odd, almost foreign feel to it, he wasn't quite certain Severus had been the one to close it. And after the initial shock of discovery, it was almost like Severus had _known_ what they would find and had just been investigating to confirm his suspicions.

However, he'd learned his lessons well in Hana and still glowed with satisfaction from his one positive accomplishment, and all it had required was for him to close his mouth and really listen. His gut told him this time he'd best continue the trend and just observe, that this, somehow, involved more than just the two of them, so he'd remained uncharacteristically silent on the matter.

A soft 'pop' interrupted his thoughts as Dobby arrived, carrying a tray and calling a cheery, "Welcome home, Master Harry." The smells under the domed cover were delicious - eggs and kippers - his favourite.

"Good to be home - I think." The house-elf laid out the table with a snap of his long fingers, a broad smile lighting his face as he removed the cover with a flourish.

"Dobby, I'm going to get huge, you keep spoiling me like this," he teased, sitting at the table, his mouth watering.

"Harry is too busy for Dobby to fatten him up," the elf remarked drolly, setting the lid aside. As Harry tucked in, Dobby added, "Harry's Professor ate well, too. Dobby made certain the Professor had his black pudding and runny eggs this morning."

Harry rolled his eyes as he swallowed a bite of salmon that had dripped with his favourite Hollandaise sauce. "Thank you for not subjecting me to it."

Dobby shrugged, saying wryly, "The Professor said much the same thing about Harry's fish." As Harry chuckled appreciatively, the house-elf eyed the empty place by the fireplace. "Does Harry want furniture here?" he asked, moving over to the bare spot in question.

His mouth full, Harry nodded, mumbling, "Was thinking maybe a couch or a settee?"

Head tilted thoughtfully, Dobby suddenly snapped his fingers and a large square couch filled the area. Harry shook his head and Dobby tried again. On the third attempt, a long Chesterfield covered in soft green leather appeared.

Harry nodded. "Perfect. Perhaps a couple of small tables?"

Dobby shook his head and a large, tufted leather hassock with turned legs appeared between the couch and the fireplace. A hardwood tray placed on top served as a small table. "Dobby thinks this would be better. Harry and his Professor could put their feet up."

Harry didn't much care beyond making the rooms as comfortable as possible; Severus had seemed so disappointed at losing the closeness of their former rooms. "That's fine." No longer hungry, he placed his napkin on the table. "Let's see to the other rooms; I'd like to get done and settled in before Severus gets home from classes this afternoon."

"Oh! Dobby is bad!" Dobby wailed, wringing his hands. "Dobby is sorry. Dobby forgot to tell Master Harry. The Headmaster would like for Master Harry to come to the headmaster's office right after lunch."

"You're backsliding, Dobby - enough of the 'Master' bit," Harry chided gently. "It's all right; we'll just have to get the rooms done before lunch, then. Shouldn't be too difficult." He held out his hand. "Perhaps we should get moving?"

Dobby spied Harry's half-full plate, a concerned frown creasing his brow. "You are finished eating already? Was it not to your liking?"

Incredulous, Harry stared at him hard, and shook himself as Dobby stared right back. He must have misheard. "I'm fine; I'm just not hungry anymore."

Clearly sceptical, the house-elf said, "Dobby will clean up then." Another snap of those agile fingers easily cleared the table.

'_How very strange,_' Harry mused as they moved around the edge of the rotunda to the sitting room beyond. Halfway there, he stopped cold, looking around him wildly, his head aching. Had the walls just moved?

'_Oh, right, Potter, they just upped and did a jig. Must have been a trick of the light,_' he thought, the sudden headache receding as quickly as it had come. He followed Dobby who, having stopped with him, was already moving into the large room.

"It really is rather nice with the sunshine pouring in through these large windows, but it's definitely not cosy." As he walked around the space, which was far more formal than before, he asked, "Dobby, can you make the room a bit smaller? Maybe two bays wide instead of three?"

His eyes huge with alarm, Dobby shook his head frantically. "Oh, no, Master Harry. Dobby is not allowed to change _these_ rooms," he declared emphatically.

Watching him closely, he asked quietly, "Why not?"

"Dobby may not disturb or change Wizarding space," he said hesitantly. "It is forbidden."

"By whom?"

Dobby again stared at him; his head began to ache. "By the Accords."

'_Ah, that explains it,_' the headache easing with the thought. '_The Accords? What Accords? The magic binding the elves to their servitude?_' He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I won't ask again."

"There was no real reason for Harry to know before," Dobby said, his face inscrutable. Brightening, he added, "What else does Harry want to do to the room?" He stood by the jumble of furniture in the centre. "Dobby _can_ move these," he said with a chuckle, pointing at the pile.

The incident smoothed over, Harry laughed and they companionably moved furnishings this way, then that, making at least a third of the room habitable. Fortunately - or unfortunately, considering the dearth of furniture with which they had to work - it didn't take too long.

Harry stood back near the opening, his gaze sweeping the room. His and Severus' deep wingback chairs, tucked close together (with a small wedge-shaped wood table between), stood in front of the fireplace on the left side of the space. Once they placed the area rug near the hearth, it closely resembled the intimate space they'd used every night to unwind from the day before retiring.

After Dobby suggested making a place for 'Harry and his Professor' to play chess or where Harry could spread out the puzzles he was so fond of assembling, they added another square table and two chairs (similar to the set in the nook) close to the other fire. The centre they left open when the house-elf pointed out it would be the perfect place for a seasonal display, such as a Christmas tree and, when not in use, it would provide a modicum of privacy as no one could tell the function of the room just by looking in the opening from the rotunda.

Heavy draperies at the windows did dim the brightness a bit, but Harry felt that, when drawn at night, they could complete the illusion of intimate domesticity Severus seemed to crave - as did he, if truth be known. The familiar, small sideboards with their old crystal decanters were set off to each side of the opening in small niches formed by the walls supporting the ramp above. When finished, Harry felt the space could work well for them and he thanked Dobby for his suggestions.

Back in the rotunda, they quickly decided not to touch Severus' office, so they crossed to Harry's 'study'; this time Harry didn't see the walls move, but he could have sworn he felt the floor shake. "Did you feel that?" he asked the house-elf by his side, his voice oddly muffled in the open space. Dobby tilted his head quizzically. "I guess not," Harry muttered, his intermittent headache suddenly reappearing.

"Is Harry feeling well?" Dobby asked solicitously as Harry approached the alcove warily, rubbing his arms.

"Other than feeling like a damned fool, I'm fine," he said, grimacing at his fanciful imaginings; he must be more tired than he thought. And cold. The rotunda was far too cold and empty. "Dobby?" he asked, the throbbing in his temples worsening. He eyed the tall blank stone walls speculatively. "Are there any decent tapestries or wall hangings in storage?"

Already standing in the alcove, the house-elf walked back to Harry's side. "Dobby does not have time to look if Master Harry wants to finish before lunch, but Dobby will search when Harry is meeting with the Headmaster, if Harry wishes it."

Nodding, Harry replied, "Today or tomorrow will be fine. Maybe something historical? Big and colourful, though. They need to be wide and tall enough so one notices them and not how huge this place is." He stretched his neck trying to ease the discomfort creeping down from his head.

"Dobby knows where the old ones are stored," he said, plucking at Harry's sleeve. "Dobby will hang them later. Come. Master Harry and Dobby do not have much time left before Harry must leave."

Without further comment, Harry followed the house-elf. Once inside the room, the headache faded, but not his displeasure with the tiny space. Feeling defeated before he'd ever started, he sighed heavily, saying, "Let's see what we can do to salvage my office."

This proved to be more difficult than he'd thought it would be.

Dark and claustrophobic (even with the extra lamps Dobby obligingly provided), he eventually decided he couldn't work here. Even his fish moved sluggishly.

He couldn't quite place what else was wrong about the room til it dawned on him that Cally was missing. '_Come to think of it, I haven't seen her at all since our arrival last night._' Most unusual - normally the small white cat was all over him whenever he came home, sometimes to the point of tripping him up as she'd wind herself around his ankles, purring.

"Harry's fish do not look happy," Dobby commented, looking through the side of the desk.

"No. No, they don't. I think I need to move them." He looked around. "But not here - they need light and sunshine for the plants to grow. Maybe a tank in the sitting room next to the table? It would be warm there near the hearth and Cally can watch them comfortably."

"Dobby is thinking the rotunda is too big and empty. Maybe Harry would like Dobby to put the fish in a big glass globe in the middle?"

Harry's eyes glazed as he imagined it. "On a heavy bronze stand, almost like one of Trelawney's crystal balls," he mused, then focused on the house-elf. "Could be amazing - would have to be large, though. It's a good idea; they might like the extra room."

In a matter of moments the fish were gone, Harry assuming to where they'd discussed. His time was growing short and with regret, he raised his wand to banish the desk. _'I can't imagine ever needing it here; it's too big for this tiny space, and I can't even ask Dobby to make the room larger or add windows. No, I'll never work here.'_

Protesting, Dobby disagreed and stopped him; they'd argued, or what passed for argument with the overly respectful house-elf. They finally agreed that Dobby would store it for him should he ever want it again.

"Dobby will move all of Harry's supplies and medicines to the cabinets and make sure the fireplace is connected to the Floo network while Harry is with Headmaster Dumbledore," Dobby said in consolation when he spelled the desk a away with another snap of his fingers.

Harry thanked him and, looking around the now bare room, thought, _'At least it will do for storage. Now I need to find a place for_ me. _Perhaps the other side of the sitting room at the new table? It's certainly large enough for my simple needs, but I don't want to clutter the room. Well, the decision will have to wait til tomorrow; it's almost time to meet Severus.'_

As he turned to leave, he heard a plaintive, familiar mewing from the darkest back corner. Sinking to his haunches, he held out his hand and made several silent 'come here' motions with it. Reluctantly, Cally slunk out of the shadows from under the cabinet's toe space, her wide open irises making her rounded blue eyes almost black. Creeping on her belly along the floor, her tail between her legs, she cautiously approached him until close enough to smell his hand, but at sufficient distance she could escape if need be. Relaxing with his scent, she licked his fingers and bumped his hand with her head, subtly begging him to pick her up. Going limp in his arms, she purred loudly as he scratched her ears.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he crooned soothingly. "Did you get trapped in here?" Concerned, he could feel how thin she'd become. "You must be starving. Come now, let's get you something to eat."

With mixed feelings, Harry walked out of his new storage room petting his found cat, and stopped dead just outside the doorway as he almost stepped into...

Nothing. No rotunda, no floor, no walls - just him and the cat in a blank space similar to the white nothingness he'd experienced with their bonds before. The pain filtering through his fear as razor-sharp claws dug deep into his arms through his robes, surpassed even the pounding in his head. Ears flat, Cally hissed, her ruff and back rising, her obvious alarm as great as his own. Heart pounding, he narrowed his eyes, trying to see as if it were a fog one could peer through. _There!_ What was that?

_The four Heads of House, including his Severus, wore their rarely used ceremonial robes; he'd never seen the others' and only glimpses of his spouse's hidden in the back of the wardrobe. Harry gulped, unable to tear his eyes from Severus, who, while the same man he married, was now somehow unreachable and unspeakably beautiful. There was a somberness to the dark jewel-like colours, offset with flashing gemstones at collar and cuff, that lent a glorious dignity to the familiar worn faces and an ancient solemnity to their ritual stance. It was almost as if they were the embodiment of the four founders, the might and strength of those fey folk superimposed over their contemporary custodians._

_Unmoving, they stood in the core of what felt like the Orrery, each at the four cardinal points facing the headmaster, terrible with his visible power, who stood shining bright in the centre of the perfect square they formed. There was a quality to their persons that told Harry he was dreaming, or maybe he was seeing a dream, or maybe the memory of a dream. Regardless, he could sense these people had never really stood here in the flesh, yet he somehow knew they and their deeds were, at the same time, quite real._

Blinking the sweat out of his eyes, Harry shook his head, staring at the normal rotunda around him, the new fish globe standing proudly in the centre. _'Wonderful - now I really am seeing things.'_ But no - Cally burrowed deep in his arms, her tiny body shaking violently; he was almost grateful for her distress because it reassured him in an odd fashion that if he were indeed going mad, at least he would have pleasant company. Cally once again dug in her claws, raking deep furrows in his arms, hissing as the rotunda once again disappeared.

_Dumbledore raised his arms in benediction and spoke The Words of power as the four surrounding him joined hands, sealing the spell. With a mighty shake, the floor heaved and ripped asunder all around them as eight slender columns rose majestically out of the churning earth. Gleaming white at birth, they quickly took on the stain of their dam, a rich loamy brown that hinted at fertile fields and ripe crops. Higher and higher they rose, stretching beyond his sight until he had to wonder: how high was the sky?_

Which one was real? The dream or the reality? Suddenly he _knew_ it was both. "Severus? What the hell is happening?" he whispered desperately, head pounding, as his mind was inexorably drawn back into the vision. Cally mewled pitifully, her wildly swishing tail beating his side.

_He wished he could hear the incantation - and the music, he knew there must be music for creation magic this strong. He ached for it, sensing he would sob and shiver with its beauty. With five mouths exultantly forming soundless syllables, he could only watch as the rotunda was born out of the hearts and minds of those defining it with potent words and immutable magic. The floor heaved one last time, then lay still. In waves, like a pale, rippling Aurora Borealis the colours of the four houses, the walls shimmied into place, shivering as if cold._

"Master Harry!" A hand was shaking his arm. "Master Harry, you must not remember!"

_Slowly the openings appeared one by one in the pale stone face. A swirl of whirling magic sparkled its way up around the perimeter of the columns. Like a leaf caught in an updraft it turned and turned and turned until it was lost from sight. In its wake, the ramp formed, growing along the path of shimmering magic like ivy winding its way up a large tree. Solid, but made of air, it climbed until lost to the human eye, yet Harry knew it went on forever._

"Master Harry! Please, stop! Oh, this is _not_ good."

_A light shone from above, landing on Dumbledore. Warm like the first spring sun on the last winter's snow, it slowly moved over the gleaming space, thawing its icy dreaminess into solid reality. Climbing, it traced the path spiralling upward until it stopped, flashing bright. As it travelled back down, Harry could see the dome in place. Slowly it descended, coalescing into a focused beam that lighted on each of the four, but only for an instant. Almost reluctantly it returned to illuminate the headmaster, who held out his hand as he turned to face... _

...the five people disappeared to be replaced by one very worried house-elf stroking his arm urgently and one purring cat.

"...all right. You are back now."

There it was again - and the headache was gone as well. This time, with a concerted effort, he ignored Dobby's stare and saw the house-elf step back, his eyes widening in alarm. Stroking Cally's soft fur, Harry, holding back the anger he could feel bubbling up inside him, remarked seriously, "I think, very soon, Master Dobby, you and I are going to have a long, _meaningful_ chat. Aren't we?"

"Yes, Master Harry," he said forlornly, his eyes fixed on Harry's face. He bowed his head and, with a 'pop', he was gone.

Harry stared at the spot Dobby had just occupied wondering why he felt so vexed with the elf. They were done with the rooms, Dobby had fed him, and he'd even managed to rid him of the headaches he'd been having off and on all morning. Shrugging, he took Cally into the nook to feed her; he didn't think he'd ever heard a cat's stomach growl with hunger before, but it was louder than her purring.

_'It has been a very strange morning. First I thought I'd seen the walls moving, then I thought the floor was shaking, and now I could have sworn I'd seen a flash of light cross the rotunda.'_ Harry shook his head at his fancy and chuckled. _'Maybe this was what happens to depraved husbands who don't get their morning endorphin fix. I'll have to ask Severus later about any known anti-hallucinatory properties of 'Severus snacks'.'_ Then the chuckle turned wicked. _'If I time it right, I might even make him spew his tea.'_ The thought of Severus' inevitable retribution for _that_ cheered him immensely.

As he left to go join Severus for lunch, he stopped to admire the fish swimming happily in their new tank. Staring at their antics, the thought, _'I wonder how many times I'll have to see whatever it was I saw before I'll be allowed to remember it?'_ flashed across his mind, much like the fish's bright colours flashed amongst the lush water plants; just as quickly, they were gone - and unremembered.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

Knowing he was already late, Harry ran down the corridor, heading not for the doors of the Great Hall, but sprinting into the staff room. He'd lost precious time taking care of Cally (although the fish in the rotunda had gone far to placate her after she'd wolfed down a full bowl of food). Taking a calming breath, he quietly walked through the door at the back of the staff room to his place at the Head table.

Immediately he noticed Albus' place was empty and, leaning over, asked Severus, "Where's the old bugger?"

"Minerva said he is off on school business and expected back by the end of lunch," Severus replied, eyeing the light sweat on Harry's forehead. "_Running_ a bit late, were we?" he asked sweetly.

"You're lucky we're in public," Harry muttered. Smiling wickedly, he asked, "Any explosions this morning?"

With a twist of his lips, Severus replied, "I almost felt sorry for the poor sods. My classroom was spotless and I think I heard cheering when I walked in this morning. I soon disabused them of their misguided notions that Septimius is 'worse' than I am."

"I'm sure you did," he murmured, chuckling at the picture _that_ made. Harry couldn't help but stare at those lips, wishing he could kiss them right now and, chortling, sent the thought - with graphic detail.

A small spot of colour rose in Severus' cheeks. "We're going to have to have some rules about _those_ types of thoughts during the day," he whispered.

Harry just sent him another and grinned when Severus retorted, "That was not precisely what I had in mind."

Their banter light, they quickly ate while Harry described the changes he'd made to the apartment. Severus seemed pleased that he'd been able to at least create an evening space for them. "It wasn't everything I wanted to do," he said, finishing up the last bite of a thick roast beef sandwich, "but Dobby said the elves are forbidden to change Wizarding space."

A grimace crossed Severus' face before he smoothed it into his normal blank mask. "Well, that's not entirely accurate. For the most part the house-elves _can_ change Wizarding space, just not _that_ kind of Wizarding space."

_'Ah, maybe he could get some answers now,'_ Harry thought, jumping on the statement. "What kind is it?"

Severus wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it aside. Glancing around the half-empty Great Hall, he said quietly, "We've some time before I'm due to leave and this is not the place to discuss 'it'. Shall we retire to the staff work room?"

Curious as to what needed to be said in private, he admired the view as he followed his husband into the room used by the staff between classes and for meetings with the headmaster. Remus was the only occupant, his face hidden behind a Muggle newspaper; Harry wondered if he wasn't actually asleep. Severus settled in a squashy chair on the far end of the long room where no one would disturb or overhear them if they spoke softly enough. The sun from a nearby window illuminated Severus' face; thrown into sharp relief from the harsh light, Harry gasped at the lines bracketing his spouse's mouth and across his forehead, lines that hadn't been apparent in the dimmer, softer lighting of the Great Hall. Studying him closely, Harry could see where his eyes, sunk deeper into their sockets, bore puffier dark circles under them. "Severus, are you feeling all right?"

Severus struggled to hide a yawn. "I'm fine, just a bit tired; it will take me a while to get used to the time difference. I didn't sleep - well."

Harry didn't think he needed to verbally express his scepticism.

With a heavy sigh, Severus amended, "All right, I didn't sleep much at all. I woke up shortly after we went to bed and had some difficulty getting back to sleep."

Harry raised his brows and closely studied the fine cracks in the ceiling, idly wondering what spell one would use to fix...

"Damn, you're worse than a quintaped!" Severus hissed. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

Hiding a smile, Harry shook his head, asking pointedly, "Would _you_, if it were me?"

His mouth set in a thin line, Severus ground out, "No. I suppose not." Looking everywhere but at Harry, he added, "Very well. I went walking, hoping I could tire myself out - unsuccessfully, I might add." He unexpectedly chuckled. "Though I did manage to work my way through the 'Urgent' pile of Owls you left for me in my office."

Harry was hard-pressed to restrain further questions concerning the wide gaps remaining in Severus' 'expanded' explanation - like where he'd gone and _why_ he needed the time away; however, for the moment at least, he decided to accept Severus' answer at face value.

Feigning a leer, he instead remarked, "You should have woke me; I've quite an extensive ala cart menu of late-night-'snacks' that might have been more - appetising - than walking around a cold castle." When Severus gave a throaty laugh, Harry continued, "In any event, I'm assuming you'll have no homework to grade tonight, so perhaps we can retire earlier and get back into _this_ time zone? Hmmm. Maybe even a bath beforehand?"

Harry supposed, after Severus started growling at him, that he might have sent his lover a tad too many images of what he had in mind; he'd just wanted to make his intentions perfectly clear, of course. Unrepentant, he said, "As much as little Harry would love to discuss this further, I believe you brought big Harry here to answer a question? About house-elves?"

Severus eyed him warily, but with a quick glance at the clock, his face and voice fell easily into lecture mode; Harry squelched the old ingrained response by slouching in his chair to listen as Severus began without preamble, "I've always thought more time should be spent on the theory of magic than on any foolish wand-waving..."

Where had he heard _that_ before? Severus cleared his throat at Harry's knowing smirk.

"...but I do not have much say as to the curriculum other than my own discipline." He closed his eyes as if trying to find a starting place. Opening them a few moments later, he began, "As you know, out in the real world, any fumble-wanded idiot can make Wizarding space to suit as long as they know the proper spells. However, here at Hogwarts, the castle's wards do not allow such casual manipulation."

Severus paused as the staff room door opened.

Noticing Severus' distraction, Harry twisted in his seat and saw McGonagall, Sprout, and Hooch walking towards them; he found their loud chatter most annoying, especially as it interrupted what little time he had to talk to Severus before his appointment. Nodding in greeting, but otherwise ignoring them, he turned back to Severus, saying with quiet earnest, "Go on, I'm interested. There's been some..." An inner voice whispered that it was better to leave it unsaid. "No matter. You were saying?"

His eyes following their progress across the space, Severus continued moderately, "Of course, the castle itself can mould its space to its specifications and often does; witness the moving stairs and the Room of Requirement. As it's almost sentient, we are often left with the consequences of its whim."

Harry chuckled, noting that Remus had joined the witches on their way out the door. When the lock snicked closed behind them, leaving Severus and him alone, he said, "Arthur Weasley told us at the end of second year not to trust anything that could think for itself if one could not see where it kept its brain. Somehow I don't think he was talking about the castle, though."

Expecting a response, he sharpened his attention when he received none - not even a snort or an annoyed huff. On the surface, Severus appeared as serious as he ever did, but the tiny lines contracting around the corners of his mouth clearly told Harry that his spouse was grossly unhappy. And he didn't think it was because _of_ him, although he suspected it had something to do _with_ him.

Shaking his head as if clearing it of an unwanted thought, Severus continued as if Harry hadn't spoken, "Be that as it may, Albus can, within limits, twist Wizarding space within the castle to suit _his_ whims via his prerogative as headmaster, such as the Wizarding space connections from room to room we both have experienced..."

_Columns erupting... _ The front of his skull started a low throbbing, just on the verge of discomfort.

"...However, he _cannot_ make sweeping changes, such as what was done to our apartments without tapping into the castle's elemental magic..."

_The ramp sparkling with magic... _ Gaining strength, the headache travelled across the top of his head.

"...It's this magic to which Dobby refers; the house-elves can change anything made by Dumbledore by his personal magic alone..."

_A white shining figure... _ The ache rolled down the back, curling and grabbing hard at the base of his skull, spreading until his whole head pulsed in counterpoint to the blood pulse he could feel pounding in his body.

"...but the Accords of Riese forbid them touching anything made with elemental magic - it's what got them into trouble in the first place."

Gritting his teeth against the growing pain, Harry asked, "But what about you and the other heads of house? I remember Minerva once banishing walls and corridors to reach a classmate badly injured in one of the unused hallways. Isn't that another manifestation of Wizarding space?"

"An interesting question and one not quickly answered." Severus gazed out the window. "Each head of house is - inducted - into the position; it's not just an 'assignment'. The 'castle', for lack of a better term, had to accept and recognize each of us as individuals, and in return we were given..."

_Four people bathed in splendour... _ The pressure mounted in his head, blocking sound, Severus' voice faded until all he could feel was the air of his words' passage across his face. It hurt to feel Severus breathe.

_Wisps of memory stirred only to flit away before he could grasp them. Shuddering, he tried to recapture their elusive familiarity... _ The pain intensified. Swaying in his seat, he watched his lover's face fade in the haze of his misery as he tried to convince himself that his brain was not going to explode. With a low cry, he gripped the top of his head with both hands as if to keep it attached.

"Harry! Are you all right?" he heard Severus crying as if far away as he jerked forward to cover both of Harry's hands with his own. "Dear gods - Harry? Can you hear me?"

With Severus' touch, a tangle of jumbled impressions flooded him... _the castle, Albus, a promise_...

Staring at him fixedly, Severus broke out into a cold sweat. A horribly familiar feeling coursed through Harry, one superimposing itself over the pain now spreading down his neck and back, one he'd not felt from Severus since the end of the war, but often experienced during his training with him.

Abruptly, their bond severed from within. The headache disappeared, as did the impressions he'd almost comprehended.

The cessation of pain with its sudden rush of sound and light was almost as uncomfortable as what had caused the deprivation in the first place. Panting, trembling from the aftereffects, he whispered, "Severus? What's happening to me?"

Severus took Harry's hands away from his head and held them tightly. His eyes softening around the edges, he leant in, placing his mouth near Harry's ear as he said softly, "Forgive me, love, but I can't - for a small while at least."

Harry nodded; he'd thought as much before, but he didn't like having his suspicions confirmed. An unwelcome notion occurred, causing his stomach to contract. Dobby had stared. Severus was still staring, the force of his regard identical to that which Harry had always hated during their _Occlumency_ lessons. No, Severus wouldn't do _that_ to him, would he? Surely his husband knew how much he abhorred it, even if it was for his own good?

And yet - the bond _was_ closed to him, seemingly with purpose.

Suddenly, he had to know. "How did you block it? How did you make the headache go away?" He hesitated, terrified of the possible reply. "It's not _Legilimency_, is it?"

Shocked by the question, Severus blinked. "No! Never! I am _not_ Albus!"

Feeling terrible for even bringing it up, Harry spoke quickly, "I'm so sorry, I should have known better than to..."

Severus' hand covered his mouth; he could smell the bread from lunch on his fingers. "However, I can easily understand why you might think so - what I am doing right now is quite similar, so I cannot be offended by the question." The gentle caress across his cheek was warm and soothing, full of all the love he couldn't otherwise feel. "I'm blocking our bond with a type of _Occlumency_ and will continue to do so until - this - is resolved." His face fell. "I should be the one apologising; I am the direct cause of your distress, and I may not explain further than to tell you it _will_ be over, very soon, to our mutual satisfaction. I promise you this."

Harry had to ask himself: was the absence of pain worth even the temporary loss of their bond? With no answer in hand, he had to ask, "Why? What's...?"

Severus leant in close, whispering so faintly Harry had to strain to hear him, "Harry - please - don't - not here."

Harry pulled back enough to examine Severus' face. A piece of stone would have been easier to read; even the little tell-tale signs he'd learned over the years were absent. Except Severus' eyes. Studying the subtle downturn at the edges, he realised Severus was almost pleading. For what? His silence? Or his blind trust? He tenderly cupped Severus' cheek, his robe sliding down his raised arm. Eyes locked, he murmured, "You'll always have it, Severus. I'll wait until you're ready."

Eyes closing in relief, Severus turned his head and kissed Harry's palm. Taking his hand with a soft, "Thank you," he started to lower it, then stopped halfway. Eyes fixed on his exposed arm, Severus carefully pushed the loose sleeve up, turning his hand over to reveal the long scratches and deep claw marks Cally had left, already turning an angry, puffy red. With a startled oath, Severus asked, "What happened?"

Harry shook his head in disgust. "Oh, that's just from me being stupid. I finally found Cally in my study, scared to death, but - idiot that I am - I picked her up anyway. She wasn't too happy with my decision, as you can see." Or at least he thought that was what happened; it was all a bit hazy. He looked them over professionally; they needed to be tended. "I'll stop by to see Poppy before my appointment with Albus this afternoon."

He supposed he deserved the sceptical frown Severus gave him; he never voluntarily went to the infirmary for anything to do with himself. Holding up his hand, he chuckled lightly. "Yeah, yeah, yeah - I know. I promise. All right?"

"See that you do," Severus replied, a smile twitching his lips.

"Yes, mum." With a prudent glance around the room, he took the hand still holding his and placed it back on Severus' knee with a pat. "I have to go soon," he said with real regret; he missed having his spouse around all day.

"I miss you, too, you impudent whelp." Severus stood abruptly and headed for the entry to the main corridor. At the door he turned to look at Harry a long moment, his dark eyes once again unfathomable. "Indulge me a moment. Why do you want Albus to teach you?"

Changing tracks, Harry thought about it. "I don't know; it just feels urgent to do so," he answered honestly. When no reply was forthcoming, he moved to stand next to his spouse, adding softly, "I'll let you know when I figure it out myself."

"Fair enough," Severus replied, his face thoughtful. His eyes flicked over Harry's shoulder and, leaning in, gave him a brief kiss. With one last, piercing gaze, Severus opened the door and was gone in a swirl of robes, leaving Harry feeling a bit guilty for delaying him as the bell, marking the beginning of the afternoon classes, clanged loudly.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

TBC


	46. Part III : Connecting Impressions

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Forty Six : Connecting Impressions**

**Monday 3 November 2003** Continued

Harry stood by the staff room door for a few moments after Severus left, feeling like he'd lost something precious. And not because of all the strange happenings of the day; Harry had meant what he'd said about his total faith in his mate. If Severus assured him the situation was temporary, then he would live with it - whatever it was, for however long it lasted. He might not _like_ it, but when had _anything_ been simple in his life, or Severus' for that matter? In the larger scheme of things, these latest circumstances were nothing more than obstacles to be resolved over time.

No, it was the flick of his husband's glance across the room before he'd kissed him that made his heart sink, a subtle check of wary eyes making certain they were alone, or at best, amongst understanding friends. Would the rest of their lives be spent looking over their shoulders just so they could share a chaste affection without censure? If he were honest with himself, the only possible answer was 'yes', and he found that revelation depressing.

What he really missed was the total freedom of expression Hana had given them.

The thought occupied his mind as he made his way to the infirmary, his promise to Severus a nuisance, but one he intended to honour. Wondering why, when he could just as easily heal himself, he inexplicably thought of Kahea's blessing - the gift of communion and of taking care of each other.

He smiled, thinking Severus would call this one of his 'hop-scotched leaps of logic'. He had no idea how the two ideas were connected. However, it was something to think about. When he'd first heard her words, he'd assumed it meant they needed to stay open to each other and protect one another. Now, he was beginning to think it meant more than that. He let it roll around in his head the rest of the trip to the infirmary.

After enduring Poppy's clucking ministrations and mild scolding about grabbing an animal clearly telling him not to, he asked her if she recalled what Kahea' had said; surprisingly she quoted it almost verbatim. He'd forgot the other half of his friend's message, the part about the everyday tasks and cherishing the quiet times. Poppy, giving him one of her knowing _looks_, remained silent until she finished, then as he was about to leave, stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Harry, dear, the most important communication is done without words." She patted his cheek, giving him light push to get him moving.

As he approached the door, she called out, "Especially when the words are inadequate for what one needs to say." He turned around to ask her what she'd meant, but she'd already disappeared. He shrugged and left to meet with Albus.

At the bottom of the headmaster's stair, he stopped as it all fell together - he finally saw the connections, and they floored him. Leaning weakly against the wall, trying to capture the vital, elusive impressions before they slipped away from him, he realised the two ladies were right; tending the little things, like keeping a simple promise (even when one could unobtrusively ignore it), helped resolve the bigger issues by establishing and maintaining trust and affection.

It was the small, private gestures, the everyday occurrences, which made their limited time together special and expressed more than words or public gestures ever could. Warm beds and cold feet, a dressing gown left handy on a cold winter morn, a glass of brandy and quiet conversation, even a stolen kiss - these taken-for-granted moments, each one building onto the next, formed a solid, safe haven that, when remembered later, made the hard times bearable. And even a little slip of thoughtlessness, just one time this latent trust was broken, no matter how small, could be the one thing to eventually weaken the structure until, as one neglect begat another, the whole came tumbling down in a flurry of misunderstandings and dissatisfaction when subjected to pressure from without.

He saw now he'd had it all wrong. Marriage didn't mean that he could just do and say as he pleased under the mistaken assumption that Severus would always understand and forgive him, if necessary. No, marriage meant that Severus was the one person, if no other, to whom he must always give his full attention. He must pay heed to his own words and actions because he'd _vowed_ he'd never consciously hurt Severus, that he would, without question, love and cherish him, and would always be the partner to whom Severus could bare his soul without harmful recourse, should he _choose_ to do so. Their marriage had not gained him any special privileges with regards to Severus' life, other than the expectation that he would receive an equal consideration, an equal thoughtfulness from his spouse should the need arise.

Sweet Merlin, it was all so simple and yet so daunting now that he understood. It was their unstinting trust, tempered in the fires of their devotion to and love for one another, that defined the shape, the whole of the shelter they'd built with their marriage. Their bond was the glue holding it together, giving them the stalwart means to face, with deep understanding and respect, those things from their past and present that threatened or defined their future.

He breathed a sigh of relief that, completely by accident - or maybe it was instinct - he'd got it right again. His blind trust in Severus over what was currently happening had been the right thing to give, perhaps the only thing he could have under the circumstances considering how little control Severus seemed to have over it. He shuddered to think how much damage he could have caused had he not listened to his heart.

But he also saw that blind trust was not always a good thing, either. Sometimes one _must_ challenge the actions of the other, especially if those actions caused pain or hurt, whether physical or mental. He supposed the real trick was to be able to distinguish, with thought, when one's challenge was truly necessary, a means to understanding, or more the result of a frivolous, selfish desire to _know_ more than what was really needed. With a jolt he realised the former was born out of concern, the latter out of control and domination.

Severus obviously already knew this - witness his disappearance this morning. His lover had left him sleeping - not to conceal anything from him, but rather because he'd needed the time to think, apart from him, to make it clear in his own mind before he discussed it with him, that is, if he could. To his surprise, the thought that Severus needed time away didn't hurt; instead, it made sense.

And there was the crux of it. Some _thing_ or other (and he suspected Albus was involved somehow - it just _smelled_ like him) had placed Severus in a dilemma he was hard-pressed to solve. Harry chuckled to himself - seemed it was time for his husband's much-vaunted Slytherin tendencies to find a way of worming out of this mess; _he_ just needed to find the patience and humour to survive long enough to find out what it was.

Well, there was no time to speculate on it any further; he was already late and Albus awaited him. Smiling at the whimsy, he called out the password, "Haupia," and in better spirits, rode the stairs to the top. The door opened of its own accord and Harry entered in time to catch Albus taking a dose of his medication. A bit alarmed, he started to walk over to him, but Albus caught his breath quickly enough to say, "No, no need, my boy. I'm fine."

"Uh huh - and I'm a naked witch," he responded, going around the desk. Albus looked like hell.

"You could be yet - it's only a spell away," the old man replied grumpily. As Harry placed his fingers on his temples, he heard him mutter, "I'd be happy to help, but Severus would kill me for certain."

Ignoring his amusement, Harry sank into the pathways. While on the surface Albus' health looked no worse than before, something felt wrong. He let himself 'float' a while, a healer's equivalent of a leisurely stroll, and before long he knew what the problem was, if not the cause. It was subtle, but he'd been in here often enough that if he were shown two sets of the same function side-by-side, he'd be able to choose Albus' every time. Once he knew what he was looking for, he started charting the damage and, when finished, was appalled.

Overall, Albus' magic was seriously depleted, the connections dull and almost transparent in places. And not in a 'I'll-get-over-it' fashion, but as a permanent condition; Albus might recover, but he would not be getting some of this back - ever.

Powerless to help him, Harry pulled out, giving him the hug he always did when he healed him, even though this time he had not. He went back to his seat, saying nothing for a long time as he thought of the ramifications of Albus without his magic.

"Well?" Albus asked quietly, breaking the silence.

"I don't want to know how you did it - it's done and there is nothing I can do to mitigate it." When Albus nodded, he added, "What I want to know is how long ago this started and _do not_ tell me you don't know what I'm talking about."

The old man hesitated and then, obviously choosing his words with care, said, "I have not slept well these last couple of nights. I have had - Hogwarts business - I had to take care of - before I am no longer able to do so."

"Well, I hope you're finished, because I'm not certain you can survive another effort of this magnitude." With impatience, he added, "You know - our old quarters were just fine. There was no need to get so elaborate."

"Ah, unfortunately, my boy, there was. And making them proved to be the simple part; I had able assistance." He stared out the window, saying softly, "No, it's what's coming that will be so difficult; however, I will soon enough have all the rest I could ever want."

A fragment of memory teased the edge of Harry's consciousness. _A column, a swirl of magic, the terrible power of the headmaster, Severus standing fierce and beautiful_ - it was so hard to concentrate around the headache starting in his temples. The familiar voice saying softly, "I _am_ sorry, Harry, but Severus has to decide it alone - for now," made him look up.

_Fuck!_ Albus was staring at him steadily _through_ his spectacles...

"No," Harry whispered. "Please, don't, Albus." The resistance to the _Legilimency_ was as automatic as breathing; after all, that _had_ been the purpose of the years of lessons, but with the growing agony in his head and neck, it was almost more effort than he could muster.

"Do you enjoy suffering, Harry? It's not going to go away and will only get progressively worse each time," Albus said, his face twisted with impatience. With an obvious effort , he smoothed his features until only genuine concern filled them and his voice as he said quietly, "Please, let me help you. For now, this is the only way I can."

He struggled against the soothing tendrils of thought from the headmaster, urging him to forget even as they mitigated some of the pain. "Damn it, first Dobby, now you. How can you both do this to me?"

Sweating, Albus ground out, "Dobby did _not_ erase your memory; I asked him to stop you from remembering."

"Why?"

"To protect you. And if I could answer more, we wouldn't be going through all this." He broke off gasping. Taking several steadying breaths, he continued, his voice thready and strained. "Please, Harry, don't fight me. I don't have the strength for it right now."

Harry was hard-pressed to let the old man have his way. He hated _Legilimency_, always had, and that aversion was what had prompted the agreement he and Severus had made concerning its use - or not. He barely tolerated his mate employing it, let alone - "Tell me why I should trust you in this?"

"Earlier this morning, Severus and I devised a possible means to circumvent this compulsion to silence and protect you at the same time, but you have to give us some time to set it in motion. Let us protect you for once, please. I promise: you'll get your memories back; I'm _not_ going to remove them, just suppress them. You already know how to break the _Legilimency_ compulsion once you know it's there. And you will, as well as get your answers. All you have to do is ask," he finished cryptically.

Yes, he knew very well how to break it. After all, Albus had taught him extensively the techniques necessary; it wasn't any more difficult than breaking an _Imperius_. However, he was upset Albus had meant to do it _without_ his consent, though, and would have, had he not been so weak at the moment.

However, he did want to get to the bottom of all this, and if this was the only way - did he really have a choice? With a sigh of frustration, he stopped resisting. Closing his eyes, he said, "Just do it, damn it!" and opened his mind. He barely heard the quietly spoken, "Thank the gods," before his whole vision filled with a white haziness.

The familiar voice saying softly, "I see now why Severus refused to use Legilimency with you," made him open his eyes. Albus was staring at him steadily _through_ his spectacles - why did Albus seem so forlorn?

And why was he daydreaming in the headmaster's office when they had so much to discuss?

Harry shook his head to clear a lingering fog. Why was he so worried? Albus didn't look _too_ bad and his check revealed nothing out of the ordinary except a blatant need for sleep. Perhaps...? "You'll live, but not if you keep pushing yourself, like that duel the other day; you should avoid such strenuous activity and save the upset for something useful."

Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively as he prepared Harry a cup of tea from the service on his desk. "It had a purpose, and it was purging, not upsetting."

He supposed it could have been at that. However... "You owe Severus an apology, you know."

Startled blue eyes met his. "Why on earth would I need to do that?"

He must be joking, right? "Because _you_ upset him!" he exclaimed heatedly.

Albus' brow furrowed in genuine confusion as he handed Harry his cup. "Did he seem upset afterwards?"

"Of course he..." Harry stopped when he thought back on it. He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it with a snap. Was he really going to buy this? Damn him, the man was right! Shaking his head in disbelief, Harry muttered, "No, Severus seemed calmer, more relaxed afterwards." More affectionate, too, if truth be known. The memory brought with it a small, wicked smile.

"Then it seems to me it was good for - all - of us," Albus said sagely, his eyes twinkling over his spectacles.

Harry consoled himself with the memory of Poppy dragging the old bugger away by his beard. "Well, the next time you decide to do something for the betterment of 'all of us' could you at least give 'all of us' a little warning?"

His face almost serious, Albus replied, "I don't think there will be a next time, but as it was, I didn't know _that_ was going to happen; it just did."

Right. He believed that about as much as he believed that the old man would never manipulate them again. His scepticism colouring his voice, Harry rejoined, "So you didn't provoke him?"

Albus laughed, setting down his cup. "Oh, yes, I did, but I thought we would just have an argument." He shook his head. "I confess I didn't expect him to attack. Quite invigorating, actually."

Harry didn't feel like verbally sparring with him anymore, so it was with some asperity that he said, "He didn't attack, _you_ did."

"I did?" If the stunned expression was anything to go by, that made twice in one day he'd managed to shock the headmaster.

"Yes, you did - with the silencing spell, if memory serves."

Comprehension dawned on Albus' face and it was Harry's turn to close his mouth after Albus replied, "Actually, I cast it to keep him from saying something I knew he would regret later - one of those 'I-wish-I-could-take-it-back' moments. Must admit I _was_ surprised when he broke through - it was one of my better spells."

A broken spell. Harry squirmed in his seat, trying to look unaffected by the casual remark.

Sharp eyes pierced his subterfuge. "Ah, young Harry. What happened after we left?"

Harry didn't want to say. "There were a lot of things that happened," he temporized, taking a sip of his tea, hoping to hold the subject at bay. "Like I decided to give Sirius' bike to Remus."

Taken aback, Albus asked, "Why? Don't you like it?"

Fortified by the small time he'd taken to rehearse a reply, Harry said earnestly, "Albus, I can't begin to express how much I appreciated you bringing the bike to me in Hana. And yes, it means a lot to me. However, I'm afraid that with as little time as we will get to spend out there, I won't get much of a chance to ride it, and I don't want it to get ruined by the climate or through disuse. So I thought that, if you didn't mind, Remus would appreciate it just as much and would have far more opportunities to use it than I."

Seemed Albus believed him as much as he'd believed Albus. "Ah, that is - understandable. And it is your bike now; there is no need to seek my approval, although I agree, Remus is a fine choice."

"I know. It just seemed - courteous - to at least let you know after all the trouble you went to send it to me."

Albus chuckled. "The 'trouble' was all Arthur's, but I thank you for that." He picked up his tea, wincing as he took a sip. Two warming spells later it steamed to his obvious satisfaction.

"Now, back to what started this line of thought, young man," Albus said with mock severity, "your redirection is almost as good as Severus'. I seem to recall we were discussing something you'd broken? Like a spell?."

Well, it had been worth a try. Harry nodded faintly. He _really_ didn't want to talk about this.

"I wouldn't feel bad about it - happens to all of us when we're upset enough - witness Severus with the silencing spell." His smile broad, he cajoled, "Come now, tell Uncle Albus _all_ about it."

Annoying old goat. "I-broke-a-Transfiguration-spell," Harry said in a rush.

Albus stared at him over the rim of his cup.

Damn, this seat was getting uncomfortable. He sighed. "Severus transfigured me into a spotted pig." His hands sketched a space in the air about the size of a loaf of fresh baked bread. "A small pot-belly."

Albus raised a brow, his eyes merry with amusement.

"You had to be there," Harry muttered. "Anyway, he pulled my tail," Albus' lips twitched, "most annoying, but I didn't start getting angry til he said he wasn't sure he could turn me back."

Albus bit his lower lip and set his cup down on the saucer.

"But what really tore it was Severus saying I was _cute_, if you can believe it, and Ben saying I would make a good pet once I was house-trained."

Albus lost it. Leaning back in his chair, his hands holding his stomach, great peals of laughter shook his thin frame. Harry felt the fool, but before long he grinned at the infectious sound and soon they were both laughing like a pair of idiots. He had to admit, it did sound very silly in the retelling.

"So, you changed yourself back?" Albus asked, taking his spectacles off to wipe the tears from his eyes.

Harry glanced everywhere but him. "Yeah."

A bit more serious, Albus leaned forward in his chair, his expression sympathetic. "And this obviously upset you?"

Harry held his gaze as he mumbled, "Yeah."

"Why?" he asked, settling the frames of his spectacles back on his long, thin nose.

"Got a week or two?" Harry murmured before saying, "I don't do transfigurations very well. I've always had difficulty envisioning the _Schema_ steps necessary in any one transformation. The only thing in which I've ever had any real success was changing Cerise's tea to Firewhiskey and _that_ was because Severus obtained the steps from Minerva before I started. Once I have those I do all right - in fact it's dead easy, but I just can't see them for myself initially."

"Not an unusual difficulty; it's one of the reasons Transfigurations is one of the lesser used branches of magic except for the simplest of things. However, that does not explain why breaking one was so upsetting." He waved his hand. "Go on."

"I've been thinking about that, _ad nauseum_, as Severus would say, and I believe it's because I did it unknowingly." He paused, gauging Dumbledore's reaction, which thankfully was neutral. It at least gave him the impetus to continue. "In order for me undo a transfiguration in the normal sense, I would have to already know the _Schema_ changes in order to reverse it without someone else casting the counterspell to change me back."

"True. But..."

"But, I didn't know those steps in this instance - and neither did Severus, so there were no clues there. I didn't consciously change myself back, either. It just happened. If that's not a lack of control, then I don't know what is. I can't help thinking that if one were making such a huge change, one should at least be aware of one's involvement in it. This is why I was so upset. Not only did I not know _how_ I did it, but I hadn't even known I had, until it was done, and only then after Severus had told me what I'd done. It's the anger thing all over again and I'm terrified I'll inadvertently hurt someone by doing it to them without even knowing I did it."

Albus was silent for some moments. Leaning back in his chair, he observed, "I can understand your concerns, but I want you to think back to all the times you've lost control over the years due to your anger. Was anyone, other than yourself, physically harmed by it?"

Harry shook his head and stopped - well... "Once. When Severus was hurt teaching me the Unforgivables."

"Ah, yes, but the anger and hate are necessary to cast those types of spells and he was deliberately goading you to make you angry enough to be successful. However, be that as it may, by your own admission, the danger, so far, has been limited to your person and Severus?"

"Well - yes."

"And Severus has informed you that, with your binding, you cannot harm him now, nor he you?" Harry nodded. "Then it seems to me that, since the 'others' seem to be fairly safe from your - lack of control - as you call it, you should concentrate more on the usefulness of your newfound ability, regardless of how you learned it. Not many can, you know."

Harry wasn't convinced, but nonetheless, he asked, "Can you?"

Albus chuckled. "No, my talents lie in the more external things, like charms and chairs..." his eyes were merry, "...you know - 'foolish wand-waving'." They shared a laugh before he continued, "Yours seem to be more internal - like your healing, your work with the bonds, curse-breaking, and now this. Add to that your latent empathic abilities and it's a formidable mix."

Huh? "Empathic abilities?"

Smiling, Albus said, "Come now, Harry, you've always been able to read people rather well, even when they don't give you much to work with - you have ever since you were a boy. And don't you dream-share with Severus?"

Well, yes, they had for years, even before they'd got together. "But I thought that was because of all the _Occlumency_ we'd practiced together and later, our bond."

"I'm certain they both had some influence, but I don't think you understand just how strong a _Legilimens_ Severus really is."

"I know he knocked me on my arse more often than not," Harry supplied drolly.

Despite his benign expression, Dumbledore was quite serious when he said, "_I_ can't break through his defenses unless he lets me and neither could Voldemort, even when Severus slept. Think about it; your offensive talents as a _Legilimens_ and a _Occlumens_ are weak at best and yet you managed to break through Severus' defenses several times. I've always believed this was partially because, even then, he trusted you more than he ever did me and, of course, there was no trust whatsoever with the Dark Lord, but a good part of it was actually due to your latent ability to read people, to slip past their defenses to see who and what they really are."

"Didn't do me much good with Malfoy, did it?" Harry commented bitterly.

Albus sighed. "Harry, Draco poisoned you with a potion, one that bewitched your mind. However, your instincts when you first met him were to not trust him and, in this, you were spot on. That boy's a lunatic." When Harry chuckled, Albus asked, "Haven't you ever wondered why you make your leaps of faith - or logic - when it comes to people? Why people others did _not_ trust, you did? Like Severus?"

Or Albus, too. Harry thoughtfully drank his tea, draining it. "Never really much thought on it."

"Well, this is why you need to be trained." Albus refilled his cup, offering him a biscuit.

Shaking his head, Harry squirmed in his chair, remembering why he'd wanted to talk to Albus in the first place.

"What is it?" Albus asked gently.

"Have you thought about what I asked before I left?"

Obviously pretending to misunderstand, he asked, "About what?"

Wincing at the hot tea, Harry said, "About training me as a _Schematamagus_."

"Yes, I have." He stared out the window. "Which is why I have spoken to Septimius amongst others."

There it was. Albus was going to refuse him. Severus had the right of it after all. "You don't want to?" Harry asked in a small voice.

His eyes kind when they returned to his face, the headmaster said, "That's hard to answer. Yes, I want to - very much so. It would please me to pass on my legacy to you."

"But..."

"Harry, please understand," he began, holding up his hand to forestall the protest forming on Harry's lips. "It will take years to fully train you, far more years than I have left in me. Breaking the rhythm of this course of study is not a good idea." He looked pained. "Nor am I capable anymore of teaching you some of the skills you need, such as the curse-breaking. For that you need someone skilled in incantations as well as mitigation, especially with those of the class used on Severus. There are few who can cast them, you know, each to his or her own talents, and fewer who can cast most, if not all. There are none who can consistently break them; most of us who try depend on dumb luck and blind talent with varied results. You need someone who has a broad range of experience to teach you the forms, as well as having a _Schematamagus_ knowledge to show you the other side of it."

Harry thought on it, reluctantly seeing his point. "I remember Quiesta saying there were only three people who could cast that kind of curse - Avery, Voldemort, and some third party, who is 'too old'."

"That she knows of," Albus said, chuckling. "There are a few of whom she may not be aware as they don't exactly advertise their abilities. Don't forget, it's usually the rogues who cast these types of curses and with Death Eaters being out of vogue..." He let his voice trail off while Harry chuckled appreciatively. "Professor Augustus Gimbley at St. John's is one such person, but in speaking to him, he is unwilling to take on a new student right now, even you. I suppose it _was_ a long shot, but he is very old and says he wants to retire. The others I considered now reside, or perhaps I _should_ say, hide on the continent and are thus unavailable."

"So is he the 'old one' Quiesta spoke of?"

Albus laughed outright. "No, _that_ would be Septimius. He's never tried to hide his mastery of the dark arts; it is our great fortune he is an unbending man with no intrinsic loyalties - good or bad - outside of his own research and teaching. He is the one man Voldemort was happy to leave neutral."

Harry asked, "Is he a _Legilimens_?"

"I don't believe so - he would be _totally_ insufferable otherwise. If a _Legilimens_ and _Schematamagus_ are rare, the combination of the two is almost unheard of..." he chuckled "...except for me, of course."

"And you're _not_ insufferable?" Harry asked, barely containing his smile.

Shaking his head, Albus smiled. "Oh, Harry, you've only seen my good side."

And somehow Harry knew _that_ was the truth.

"So what did he say?"

"Who?" Albus asked, pouring himself another cup of tea.

"The 'other' old man," Harry replied impatiently.

"First, tell me why you want _me_ to teach you."

Harry had never really thought himself as reserved as Severus, but given how the words stuck in his throat... "I, um, don't want split my time too much, what with my work and all..."

_I want to spend as much time with you as I can - before you're - gone._

"...and I need to be available for your check-ups..."

_I don't want to go too far away from you._

"...and despite our arguments, I do trust you..."

_I love you, you damned old bugger. Is that so much?_.

"Hmmm. Sound reasons - all of them. Personally, I'd looked at it as, well, almost like a father passing down a skill to a son," Albus mused, his understanding eyes never leaving Harry's face.

Harry hung his head. "Yeah, sort of."

"Well, I must admit the bond we've forged with your healing me would make the teaching go faster..."

Feeling a bit of hope, Harry raised his head.

"...and it would be a way for me to repay you for the extra time you've given me..."

Harry sat forward and grinned.

"...and it would be, in its own manner, a means to keep us even..."

Harry didn't know if he could survive Albus' penchant for drama. "...so I _suppose_ I'll take you on..."

"Thank you, Albus!"

"..._if_ you'll also study under Septimius, who says he is willing to teach you, but only after he's tested you."

What? "Tests - me?"

A grin on Dumbledore's face was something worth remembering. "Yes, to see if you're - how did he phrase it? - 'worth wasting his time'."

Why that son-of-a... he'd be damned if he studied...

Albus interrupted his thoughts with a snort. "I warn you, he's a bit of a curmudgeon; makes Severus look like a pussycat." His lips twitched and Harry couldn't help but think of McGonagall's transfiguration of Severus in the infirmary. "Yes, well, you know what I mean."

While humourous, it did little to reassure him; even Severus seemed wary of Septimius. He was trying to remember what his husband had said about _that_ old man when he became aware that _his_ old man was speaking again. "...and I think you need to do some further studying with Quiesta."

"More? Why?"

"Harry, I hate to push this issue, but it is one you must consider. You may have your mastery and you are quite skilled in what you do, but you have yet to see your first full quarter century and, as such, have barely skimmed the surface of your talents. In this, you are thinking like a Muggle; the odds are even that you will easily live beyond two centuries. You and Severus both."

Harry nodded. The idea had merit and he'd rather liked studying under the Magistra before; he'd just never thought he would do so again. "So you want me to continue my mastery with Quiesta?"

"In a way. The course of study I would recommend is not as concentrated as your mastery, but there are skills Carlotta can help you acquire as you need them. Think of her more as a resource you visit once or twice a month. For example, you made a good start with Severus' scars, but she can help you take it further. It was, unfortunately, a specialty of hers during the war."

"What about old scars?" Harry asked cagily.

Albus gazed at him over his spectacles in sympathy and understanding, saying softly, "If it was cast by Voldemort, then there is nothing _anyone_ can do; not even you, my boy."

"But..."

"You have to first understand the nature of curse-scars. Every magical curse or ward, good or bad, which is meant to be permanently binding to a person, is fixed in a scar or wound of some sort - the scar on your forehead, the scar of yours and Severus' ward, the eyes on Severus' chest - among others you _both_ bear - these are all one kind of _Mark_. It is done in this manner because a _Schema_ cannot be changed twice on any one thing. Since, as you are well aware, scar tissue is different than normal tissue, and already has, in essence, been changed once, it can't be changed again."

The healer in Harry asked, "But wouldn't changing a scar back to skin be nothing more than reverting it back to its original form?"

Albus nodded. "If it were _just_ a scar, this would be true as changing something back into its original form does not constitute a second change; however, one must consider that a _Mark_ is a matrix for something else, so in essence it has already been once-removed from its original form. To make it skin again would require you to actually change it, not revert it."

All right, he could see that, but hadn't he... "What about Severus' Dark Mark? I was able to change it."

Albus' face beamed and Harry realised they were already having their first lesson. More importantly, he was enjoying it.

"Ah, I've been thinking on that as I had similar questions. Marks come in a variety of forms and, as a rule, are permanent because of the matrix involved in their creation. And yet, I was faced with the inescapable fact that you _had_ erased one and, while you have some power in you," he smiled wryly, "you are not some 'super-wizard' who can supersede 'Larson's Laws of Transfigurations'."

"Don't you mean 'Thurmonger's Laws'?

"No, the Thurmonger Laws are taught to those learning only the basics of Transfigurations, such as what is learned in this school. The Larson Laws are for the adept taking deeper study.

"Oh. What are they, then?"

Albus shook his head. "Later, my boy; I can only explain one thing at a time." He pushed a piece of parchment over to Harry. "Write it down so we don't forget it."

While Harry penned it, Albus said, "Now where was I? Ah, yes. Severus' Dark Mark." He took a sip of tea. "If you eradicated it, then the premise that the Dark Mark was a true _Mark_ had to be wrong. Taken in that light, then Voldemort's Mark was nothing more than an animated tattoo, a container for his magic if anything, which is why I, among others, failed to change the damned things. We were treating them as if they were a true _Mark_ with a matrix; however, because you had no such notions, you easily changed it back to regular skin because that is what, as a healer, you sensed it was. Do the other scars Severus bears feel the same way as his Dark Mark?"

Harry thought about it while Albus poured him another cup. "No, they are very different. I can see what you mean, though. A scar is a scar is a scar, until someone imbues it with something else, then, like Severus' potions, there is a synergistic change, the binding if you will, that makes it something else altogether." He slumped in his chair. "Which means one might get rid of the curse, but not the thing that bears it."

His voice gentle, Albus answered, "Precisely, or one might _not_ be able to get rid of the curse if it is too deep or too old, in which case both the scars and the residual effects of the curse remain - forever." His eyes were compassionate over his spectacles.

Well, that was that. There really was nothing he could do to help Severus; he would bear Voldemort's consequences all his life. Remembering Dumbledore's earlier words, Harry wondered, because of the nightmares he still experienced, if perhaps the scars Draco left in him carried a curse as well; he resolved to look into it.

Albus waited patiently for his full attention before saying, "This is what I meant by you doing more internal magic than I, and where Quiesta will be invaluable. Although a case might be made for ignorance, I suspect you would be far more interested in _control_ rather than inadvertently stumbling into your talents, yes?"

Harry nodded and was about to reply when there was a knock on the door.

"I'm afraid our time is up; my next appointment is here. Perhaps you can stop by again tomorrow morning, after you've spoken to Septimius, and we can set up a schedule."

"I'd like that," Harry said, although the upcoming meeting with Severus' old teacher left him cold.

The door behind him opened on its own as he was rising from his chair. Minerva stood in the doorway, hesitating when she saw Harry. Albus called out, "Come in, come in, my dear. Harry and I are finished for the day; he's just on his way back to his quarters."

He was, was he? While it was news to him, Harry took it for the hint it was obviously meant to be. Minerva seemed nervous around him, her softly spoken greeting and farewell stilted and wary. _'Very strange,'_ he thought, on his way down the stair, _'but not any more so than anything else since we've been home.'_

Home. Resolute, he walked swiftly to their quarters. About half-way to the dungeon stairs, the bell rang for afternoon change of classes. Damn, he did _not_ want to wade his way through the inevitable throngs of students. Glancing around him, he spied a niche where he could, well, he wouldn't call it hiding, but at least it _would_ get him enough out of the way so he wouldn't get trampled. Ducking into it just as the mad stampede came roaring through the corridor, he leaned back against the back wall - and tumbled out onto the ramp in their quarters.

Rubbing his aggrieved bum as he stood, he looked behind him at the now closed door. It was plain and obviously one they'd been unable to open. He tried the knob; no, it was locked from this side. Remembering what Severus had said about Wizarding connections (not to mention the sneaky bastard who could make them) and given that said mischief-maker couldn't have known in advance that he would stop in the alcove, it was reasonable to assume that Albus had been 'following' him (more than likely with the Marauder's map or something similar) _before_ making the Wizarding connection.

But why would he do that in the middle of a meeting with the deputy headmistress? He pondered this as he made his way down the ramp. Sneaky indeed. The whole episode must have been planned. For some reason Albus wanted him to go to his quarters at this time. Perhaps the headmaster had made the Wizarding connection because _he_ was running a bit behind some schedule?

No matter. He would play Albus' game until he tired of it and then he would play it Harry's way.

At the bottom of the ramp, he stepped into the rotunda. A wave of dizziness passed over him as his head began to pound.

_...the four of heads of house, the headmaster..._

He looked wildly around the room. There - in front of the fish globe - something floated loose in the air. He staggered over to it, finding, at waist height, a single blossom of white plumeria, its centre tinged a soft yellow. The heady scent beckoned to him.

_...the birth of the columns, the aching beauty of the magic and that of..._

"Severus," he whispered. The kaleidescope of jumbled images as much as the whirling pain in his head and neck made him sink to his knees on the hard stone floor, his stomach heaving.

_...the spiralling of the ramp, the bright questing light touching the four heads of house, only to rest on..._

"Severus! Where are you?" The agony travelled down his back almost crippling him. Why? What was he seeing? What was he _remembering_?

Trembling, he reached out to take the sweet flower, but he hesitated actually touching it as he felt the tingle of magic it bore. Sternly controlling himself, he cupped his shaking hands around it, barely sorting out what was its own magic versus the magic holding it aloft; he soon realised it was a Portkey.

_...the headmaster pointing..._

The nausea was all consuming while the pain crept to his arms and legs; soon he would be paralyzed. He couldn't stay here. Taking a deep breath and gathering the last of his volition, he plucked the blossom out of the air. Some long moments later he found himself kneeling on all fours in the dark. As the hook-in-the-belly feeling faded, taking with it the nausea, he sat back on his heels. Something shifted beneath his knees as warm, solid arms enfolded him, holding him fast.

"Dear gods, Harry, are you all right?"

No, he wasn't, but he couldn't articulate it right now as the things in the back of his mind clamoured for attention. Whimpering, he let them take him. Trembling with reaction, he beheld once again his vision with nothing barring him from seeing it in full. Secure in Severus' arms, he let the images wash over him, through him, until whole and unencumbered, he savoured them like the finest brandy on a cold night. And when it was over, he felt peaceful and sane, the lingering pain receding as if someone had pulled the plug on a drain, leaving him limp with relief.

He leant into the strong chest, finally aware of the hand gently stroking his hair. He tried to place where he was; it was the sand running through his fingers as much as the timeless rhythm of the ocean which told him where he'd landed. Hana. His eyes adjusting in the dim starlight, the moon a crescent waning far over the water, he could just see their house not too far away.

"Better now?" Severus whispered, his lips ghosting over Harry's forehead.

It was all he could do to nod; every muscle in his body ached.

"I'm so sorry, love. If I could have brought you myself, I would have, but you had to come on your own." Severus made a noise of deep frustration. "Ach! I still can't explain, but at least here you'll be - more comfortable - or at least we think so. Come. Let me help you to the house."

Standing was a struggle, but with Severus to support him, not impossible. They made their way slowly, Severus helping him with the stairs as protesting muscles and exhaustion made it difficult to even lift his feet enough to clear the risers. They made it across the lanai and into the house; he wasn't quite certain how, though.

Severus made him sit on the edge of their bed. "I'll be right back - don't move."

Easier said than done. He eyed the plump pillows and the soft comforter, its downy comfort singing him a siren song. Surely a little lie-down wouldn't hurt...

"Ah now, none of that - yet. Just a minute more, love. Here, drink this," Severus said with a smile in his voice, his hand cupping the back of Harry's head as he handed a small glass to him. He folded his other hand over Harry's to steady them as he raised the glass to his lips and drank deeply. Water, just cool water and something bitter, but - cleaner, not thick and heavy like one of Severus' normal potions. "It's just a mild willow bark infusion. May take a few minutes to work, but my other potions would cause you more stomach upset."

He nodded, his drooping eyes once again turning to the delectable bed. Severus chuckled, murmuring a familiar spell, and following a feathery tingle of magic, the cool night air whispered against his bare skin. Crawling under the covers had never felt this good; feeling the familiar body slide in next to him was much better, although the soft kiss bestowed on willing lips was by far the best.

Severus gently pulled him into his arms; Harry was happy to let him and the exhaustion take over. His thoughts muzzy, he vaguely heard Severus say soothingly, "Just sleep, Harry. We'll talk about it in the morning."

That sounded wonderful and without delay or comment, he snuggled in, inhaling deeply his mate's scent. It was so good to be home. Yes, home, but not the four walls and new roof surrounding them, but rather the loving arms around him, the comforting beat of Severus' heart beneath his cheek, the long legs anchoring him to the real place he belonged.

His dreams soon filtered over reality, giving him pleasant visions of his Severus surrounded by the magic. "So powerful," he murmured, "so strong - I can't tear my eyes away from you, Severus, you are so beautiful."

The warm cocoon surrounding him tightened as butterflies danced across the top of his head, whispering his name, "Harry," with all the love he could ever want or need.

And so gentled, he slept.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

TBC


	47. Part III : Just a Figment of My Reality

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Forty Seven : Just a Figment of My Reality**

**Tuesday 4 November 2003 HST**

He'd thought at first it was only a dream.

It had started with the four of them, each in their house's formal robes, seated in a semicircle facing Albus, his eyes serious over half-moon spectacles. Holding herself with a taut wariness, Minerva sat next to Pomona who worried her bottom lip. Filius, his normal merriness shadowed by concern, came next, followed by himself at the other end. The unsettling silence from this normally chatty group made him wonder why they were there. The answer wasn't long in coming.

_"My friends, thank you all for coming on such short notice. I'm quite certain you're curious as to why we are here, in this place, at this time, and in this manner. I will endeavour to explain, although I beg your indulgence as there is no easy place to begin."_

Granted, it was a strange dream; the uncomfortably stiff, ancient robes of Salazar were just the kind of sadistic touch his imagination would conjure to torture him.

_"To the Wizarding world, Hogwarts is believed to be a school, an educational institution subject to the whims of its Board of Governors and those of the Ministry. In many respects, such as funding and curriculum, this is mostly true. However, we are here today to address a few areas where the 'common' belief does not necessarily mean fact."_

_"Let's start with two fallacies with which we're familiar - who runs the school and the ever popular, Hogwarts is 'merely a castle'. Then we can move on to the lesser known misconception, namely that the Board of Governors carries the authority to 'hire and fire' the headmasters of the school. For clarity's sake, I'll address each one separately, although in the long run, they're all intertwined."_

_He paused, gazing long at each of them. "Who runs the school? We do. Who are the custodians of Hogwarts, a living edifice with a capricious nature all its own? We are, although the Board of Governors harbour some delusions in that regard; however, I've yet to see any member of that august body answer the call to 'come fix my wards', as we have done many times in the past." He waited for the nervous sniggers to pass. "And despite past appearances to the contrary, namely my 'removals' from office and subsequent 'reinstatements', these 'powers-that-think-they-be' cannot actually change the position of the headmaster once it is filled, nor do they make the final choice; the castle does."_

_Albus chuckled. "I see I may have to record this event for posterity if for no other reason than I seem to have rendered you all speechless, something I've attempted, without much success I might add, many times in my long tenure as headmaster." He waited a beat, then continued. "And a tenure it is. The burden borne by the Headmasters of Hogwarts is a lifetime commitment, unbreakable by any, other than the castle. Once filled, there is no retirement nor secular dismissal; one takes the position and dies with it."_

_Minerva interrupted him. "Albus, aren't you forget..."_

_"Patience, my dear," he replied calmly. "Let me explain to them first what you already know, and then you can make all the comments your Gryffindor heart can devise."_

Watching McGonagall sputter futilely was always a good way to spend any dream. As to Albus' outrageous declarations - who would be fool enough to accept such conditions?

_"The Board of Governors chooses the headmaster. This is the procedure everyone 'knows', but it's another fallacy. The convention is only valid whenever a headmaster dies suddenly without a trained successor which, unfortunately, happens more often than not. I'm not so unprepared in this matter. Several years ago, when my sudden death was very much in the realm of possibility, I named Minerva as my replacement with Pomona as her Deputy and taught them both the means to make the transfer, if necessary._

_"With Voldemort's demise, I revised my succession plan when Pomona said she did not want the burden, leaving Minerva as my successor with Severus as second. Again, both Minerva and Severus trained in the rituals created by the founders to make an orderly transition at my death._

Albus didn't mention that, at the first go-around, Pomona was his second choice. _He'd_ refused the Deputy's position as his work for the Order had taken precedence - not that it had mattered much in the final reckoning. He'd been content with his initial decision, but hadn't refused it the second time it was offered.

_"However, circumstances during my absence last week forced me to, once again, reassess my plan of succession." He waited out their murmurings and after a few moments, held up a hand for their attention. "The ritual I'd previously chosen assumed I'd have full use of my powers until the end. Unfortunately, my illness diminishes my physical and magical strength every passing day; before long, I'll no longer be able to perform my duties and will be Headmaster in name only."_

Given what he'd experienced in their duel, Severus had no difficulty believing the headmaster's claims of a rapid, progressive weakness; Albus would have flattened him only four months ago, not come almost to a draw. Nor was he surprised at the shock on his colleague's faces; it was quite possible _he_ was the only one of the four truly aware of the headmaster's health because of Harry's involvement.

_"This left me with a serious conundrum. I could not retire, thus leaving Minerva to take her place as headmistress, nor could I fulfill my duties." He threw McGonagall a quelling glance as she drew breath to speak. "Fortunately for us, the founders created a series of contingency plans covering almost every possible means of passing the office to another. Upon my return to Hogwarts, I researched the precedents and discovered I could transfer the magical ability of my position to Minerva, but not the responsibilities. This would mean that as long as I live, I would make the decisions, while she carries them out."_

Minerva's concentration was absolute; so this was news to her as well? With the frisson of alarm up his spine, he began to suspect he might not be dreaming.

_"The Founders, of course, planned for this possibility, for it is no small matter to have, what is in essence, two headmasters in place at once - one who is the public figurehead, the other who wields the actual power. In keeping with their stringent instructions for such an eventuality, I consulted the Orrery this morning and determined that today, at this hour, is the most propitious time to begin this process."_

More than anything else, this calm revelation, too fantastic even for his overblown subconscious, convinced him that his magical presence in the Orrery (while he slept snug in his bed with Harry in Hana) was real and not the product of a sunstruck imagination.

_"Therefore, we have been called to begin an ancient ritual, one not used for over three centuries, to pass the legacy of Hogwarts from one living headmaster to the next, one who will remain unproclaimed until I die. This transfer of ownership, if you will, must happen quickly while I still have the ability to facilitate it. While there are several venues where this rite could take place, we are using the Orrery to accommodate Severus," the gnarled hand, half covered by the deep, open sleeve of his blindingly white robes, had risen to indicate him, "who is currently several thousand miles away, so we could all meet at the appointed time, in the prescribed manner."_

While Minerva glaring daggers at some perceived inconvenience to her busy and important schedule wasn't by any means unusual, the tinge of apprehension within it certainly was. Ten points to the Slytherins.

_"Before we begin, you must each renew your oath to tell no one of these proceedings. The public, including the Board of Governors and the Ministry, even our most trusted colleagues within Hogwarts, must not know of these events. I know this is unusual, but Hogwarts must_ not _be left leaderless, even in these apparently peaceful times; we must dissuade any outside attempt to fill the position by political whimsy or 'popular' choice."_

He was the first to do so; swearing an oath of silence, like so many made in the past, presented no difficulties he could foresee. Besides, all he would be concealing was Minerva's involvement as the new headmistress (which had already been established and approved by everyone involved) and Albus' deteriorating condition (which would have caused more trouble than it was worth). Only keeping anything from Harry could have twinged his conscience, but since his husband monitored the headmaster's health, he would already know.

Strange though - when he'd spoken the words, the magic had delved deep, creating a disquieting dissonance within their bond.

The others had given it some thought, especially Minerva. For the life of him, he couldn't see where they might object. In fact, he rather liked Albus' plan. Anything circumventing the busybodies at the Ministry and the undesirables they'd chosen as Governors (including Malfoy, who'd managed to regain his position despite his incarceration in Azkaban) could only be a good thing. However, after a few minute's discussion, the other three followed suit, their oaths renewed.

_"I thank you all for your confidence," Albus said, his smile ironic. "We may now begin. Please stand." With a wave of his wand, the comfortable chairs disappeared, leaving them in a foggy white nothingness._

_Clearing his throat, Albus spoke, his voice richer, fuller, as if already laden with the magic he would confer. "The ritual is three-fold. First, a new heart or centrum of power for Hogwarts must be created as my own humble seat is inexorably tied to my waning powers. As I diminish, so it shall too, until it disappears with my demise; a second seat is as necessary as a second headmaster. Each of you will add a feature to the new centrum, something that represents the spirit of the founder you represent; you will know what to do when the time comes. In the second part of the ritual, the choice for the new Headmistress will be confirmed by the castle."_

Throughout his speech, Minerva had stood proud, her unbound hair flowing down the back of Godric's resplendent, gold encrusted red robes. However, as Albus paused, she'd marred the solemn dignity of the moment by preening like Fawkes right after a rebirth. And, as usual, her presumption annoyed him to no end.

_"The third aspect of the ritual entails the actual transfer of control, which will occur later, over an unspecified period of time, depending on how quickly my abilities fail."_

It had seemed simple - until the time came to actually do it. He'd only the two previous exposures to the castle's elemental magic: once when they'd repaired the damage from the fall of Voldemort, and again when he'd helped Filius expand the Ravenclaw house. As such, he was unprepared for the sheer beauty of the form and of the _Ordinata_ used to order the resulting chaos. The boundless magic had been raw yet smooth, like honey fresh off the comb. When they'd joined hands, its power flowed through them like wildfire; had even one let go, they would have all been burned.

Flitwick, after quietly conferring with the future owner, created the rotunda with its generous spaces. Of course, Sprout added the towering series of columns born of the earth, which McGonagall capped with a magnificent glass dome. And him? He'd devised the ramp, thinking it would do the old biddy good to get some exercise. Albus had added the books and the doors along the ramp as well as a guardian.

With the first part of the rite completed, he'd never once doubted the reality of what he'd seen and done, but that conviction fled when, in the second part, the castle's light (confirming the next head of Hogwarts) had settled not on Minerva, but on _him_. He'd laughed outright, a strange counterpoint to the resounding magic filling him before the light returned to rest on Albus.

It was at that point he'd thought the whole thing absurd, from the unlikely, archaic ceremony (not performed in centuries - bah!) to the grandiose chambers reserved for the new headmistress. He'd profusely thanked his devious subconscious for providing the entertaining glimpse of McGonagall's face when she'd thought she wasn't the chosen one; it would provide him with years of secret amusement whenever she, as headmistress, annoyed him with _another_ one of her unfair, heavy-handed decisions.

His delusion had even come with conditions.

_"Severus, you have been chosen as my replacement by the founders through their agent, Hogwarts. You have three days to decide, starting at your return tomorrow. If after that time, you refuse it, Minerva will be the new headmistress as previously decided."_

He'd smirked at that. How could he not? It was beyond absurd to think anyone, let alone a mouldy old Scottish castle, would consider him a fitting custodian for a school full of idiotic children.

Yes, it had been a bit odd insofar as dreams went, but he'd eventually awakened, amused but unconcerned. Since Harry never mentioned it (being more concerned with his 'morning snack'), he'd easily dismissed the whole fantasy from his mind.

Until he'd come home and walked straight into his dream.

Until he'd read Albus' note and the realisation hit him like a raging Hippogriff: he really DID have to make a choice.

Until he'd try to explain it to Harry in the rotunda that first time and discovered the oath was binding when the words had choked in his mouth like rancid Polyjuice potion.

Quelling the inner panic had taken every dissembling skill he'd possessed as had appearing as if everything was perfectly ordinary. And later, when all he'd wanted was some quiet, his spouse had _not_ cooperated. Despite one of his better efforts, Harry had been in one of his 'we've-just-had-sex-let's-get-chatty' moods, something _he_ normally enjoyed (although grousing was not only required but expected), but in this case, the continuing speculation from his bewildered mate just made him want to tear his hair out in frustration, especially when he knew the answers but couldn't divulge them. And to him, telling Harry took on as much importance as making the decision in the first place; he would not accept if Harry objected or had serious reserv...

A hand trailed across his shoulder, startling him out of his reverie. "Hey, this is my spot," Harry said softly, sitting across from him on the rock facing the beach, the caps of their knees touching.

"Did you find the infusion I left you?" he asked by way of greeting, not looking over at him.

"The glass of water with the white bits floating in it?" When he nodded, Harry replied, "Nah, must have missed it." With a small smile, he held up a hand as if to ward himself from the mock glare aimed his way. "Yes, yes, I took it. Thank you - I was a bit stiff when I got up. Damned bed won't let me sleep in it alone; your side was still warm when I woke."

He'd forgot about that. "Harry, that was quite a while ago."

"I suppose it was, but when I saw you out here, I reckoned you needed your time alone as much as I." Harry hesitantly laid his hand on Severus' knee, then hastily removed it.

No, the bond was still closed.

Studying his hands folded tightly in his lap, he said quietly, "It was almost too much to take in at once, but I remember everything now, from Albus' speech to the time limit he set at the end for your decision." He looked to the side, suddenly fascinated with the ocean swells. "Like you, I needed to think and it seemed as good a time as any. Besides, I've always enjoyed watching the sunrise; it always gives me hope to watch the birth of a new day."

Shadowed eyes, barely concealing his mate's hurt and longing, turned back to him as Harry remarked with false cheer, "Have to say, though, I like your spot on the lanai better than mine out here - much easier on the bum." Before Severus could respond, he rummaged in a bag he'd brought. "Here, I brought us some tea and bagels. Kaneshiro's finest."

The moment the tea's steam rose out of the cup, his stomach started rumbling; he hadn't eaten since lunch at Hogwarts. He gratefully took the offering and, setting it aside, leant over, taking Harry's face in his hands with a whispered, "Come here," as he bestowed a soft kiss of mute apology. Harry cupped the back of his head as he deepened it until it was almost enough to supplant their missing connection. Almost. Feeling bereft of something he'd not realised he'd come to take so much for granted, he nosed the hair off Harry's forehead, murmuring, "You take good care of me."

Harry ducked his head and smiled as they separated, a pleased flush on his cheeks.

While they ate and drank in silence, Severus wondered how he was going to tell Harry the rest of it when he was still bound. Or at least he _thought_ he was. Perhaps if he approached it from the side?

"We dream-shared the night before we returned to Hogwarts," he finally said, his eyes fixed on the ocean.

"Ah, that explains why it seemed so surreal," Harry said soothingly, "although I confess I'm a bit confused. Why you didn't say anything to me the next morning before we returned?"

"Why didn't you ask?" he retorted with a snort at his evasion.

"While somewhat elaborate, even for you, I thought it was just a dream. Hardly seemed necessary to mention it."

"Precisely."

He supposed he should have expected it. Following a long blank stare, he could see it start somewhere near his mate's midriff, bubbling upwards until it burst of out of him in a great guffaw. "Oh... oh..." he tried, but the genuine laughter ate his words. Rocking with his mirth, Harry finally managed, "A dream?..." his eyes squeezed shut "...and you didn't..." tears leaked down his cheeks. "No wonder you laughed when the light settled on you."

If it weren't so damned serious... "Ah, well, that was when I decided it really was a dream."

Reduced to chuckling, Harry replied, "I can see where you might have thought so - not a whit less fantastic than some others you've had."

Other dreams? This one was more like a nightmare.

His head tilted to the side, Harry asked, "You don't remember your good dreams?"

He shook his head. "Rarely."

"Pity - some of them are quite wonderful. Remind me when this is over, and I'll tell you of those I remember - the flying ones are the best."

Flying? Flying seemed vaguely familiar but not relevant to _this_ conversation. "You weren't meant to see this one, you just got pulled along. I _am_ sorry it caused you - difficulties." With a shudder, he suppressed the images of Harry having 'difficulties' out on the beach last night.

Harry shrugged. "Can't be helped, I s'pose. It's not like you have any control over it."

No, unfortunately he didn't. Nor did Harry have all the facts. There was more he still needed to share; if he could just find a way to circumvent the thrice-damned oath, it would...

"Sun's getting warm," Harry said, startling him again. "I'm thinking we'd be more comfortable inside."

"Probably," he replied, helping Harry gather their spent wrappers and paper cups. "Didn't think to bring a sun potion, so we'd be going in soon anyway."

Rising in a fluid movement, Harry extended a hand, chuckling. "Yeah, I can see where you'd be concerned - that's a lot of nose to peel."

Severus discovered it was fairly easy to growl and laugh at the same time. Standing, however, proved tougher, although he was appreciative of the muscles rippling under Harry's Muggle shirt as he helped him upright. "My arse's numb," he muttered, the pins and needles of returning circulation stinging his legs.

"Shouldn't wonder," Harry replied, putting an arm around his waist to steady him. "You'll get piles sitting out here on the rocks too long."

"How romantic," Severus groused, stretching his back.

The hand at his waist dropped to his arse, squeezing one cheek. "There. Is that better?"

"Hmmm. Could be," he teased, pulling his lover flush against him. "Hurts more on the other side, though," he murmured, nuzzling the damp neck.

"Mmm hmm..." the other hand dropped "...like this?"

"Much better," he breathed, his lips and tongue paying homage to the now stretched throat. "Someone needs a shave..." He straightened at the sounds of laughter and a car boot closing off in the distance. Looking over Harry's shoulder he could see a family getting out of what he remembered Ben calling an 'SUV'. Silly Americans with all their acronyms. "Damn," he said softly, "there goes the neighborhood."

Harry reluctantly pulled away and turned around to look. "Oh well, we were going in anyway, right?"

Severus smiled to himself when Harry resolutely grabbed his hand as they walked back to the house; no, in Hana at least, Harry wouldn't let him get away with his more stand-offish manner.

Once inside, he rearranged the chairs to something less formal so they could talk comfortably while Harry busied himself making a pot of tea. He'd just set a small table between them when Harry called from the kitchen, "You want it iced?"

Shuddering, Severus untwisted his grimace of distaste enough to say, "No, I'm a purist - hot and black will be fine since we've no milk."

Harry grinned. "Just checking to see if you'd changed your mind in the last two days."

"Hardly."

"All right, two hot teas coming up."

"What? I thought you liked it iced."

"We've no pineapple juice or lemons - it's perfectly awful without them."

Personally, he thought it horrid _with_ them, but knew he didn't need to voice the sentiment; Harry had heard it often enough their last visit.

Harry carried the tray to the chairs where Severus was already seated. After setting it down, he studied the new arrangement. "This is much cosier, isn't it?"

Settling down, he poured them both a cup, handing him one while he added a cube of sugar to his own. All perfectly normal occurrences since he was always content to let Harry play mother, but Severus also knew it was a stalling technique his spouse had learned from the best. He sipped his tea - as usual it was perfect - and waited.

"I guess we can't avoid it now, can we?"

"No, not really, although the idea of just staying here for the rest of our lives holds a tempting appeal." He sighed, knowing full well he would go back. "However, since we both know that will never happen, we might as well continue. You never finished telling me what you'd seen, and there is more I need to tell you."

Harry nodded. "There's not much more to add. After I woke up this morning, I had the oddest sensation. You know, that 'back-of-the-head-I'm-missing-something' feeling?" He sipped his tea. "Anyway, I always do better with that sort of thing if I ignore it, so I was laying there debating a shower or finding you first when I had this sudden image of Albus sitting at his desk looking at me through his spectacles..."

"What?" Severus sat forward so fast he sloshed his tea.

"Simmer down, I've already got rid of it..."

"Why that son-of-a-" Severus sputtered.

"Severus! Pay attention, please."

He forced himself to sit back in the chair and assume an air of calmness he in no way felt.

"I know you want to jump out of that chair and kill Albus, but if you'll just wait a while, he'll do it for you all by himself."

"It's that bad?"

Harry shook his head. "He'll live, for now, but his magic is seriously depleted. As to the compulsion, I let him do it."

Severus could tell there was more Harry wasn't saying. "Oh yes, you agreed - after he gave you few to no choices?"

"Something like that." He chuckled wickedly. "Have no worry, he paid for it and will think twice before doing it again, I assure you."

Severus felt a bloodthirsty smile creep on his face. "Didn't know about the sensory backlash you cause, did he? I told you keeping that little tidbit to ourselves would come in handy later."

"Well, yes, it did - I'm quite sure it was uncomfortable; at least to the point he commented he knew now why you refused."

It wasn't the only reason, but he let it stand. "Now that you remember the incident, what exactly was he trying to hide?"

"Other than his health? Nothing. He was only suppressing my memories to stay the castle." He shook his head ruefully. "He might have spared himself the effort with all the good it did." He poured another cup of tea. "No, you gave me more clues and information after lunch than he did." Holding the cup steady, he pulled his legs into the chair. "One thing, though. I could hear the words, but not the magic. Tell me, was there music? That is, if you can - I'm just curious more than anything."

"Yes." That was as far as it would let him go.

His eyes glazing as he imagined it, Harry murmured, "I'll wager it was wonderful..."

"It tore the soul," he said sincerely, remembering its wild beauty.

"...I thought it would be so lovely I'd cry if I could only hear it."

Knowing Harry as he did, he probably would have, too. "Sentimental Gryffindor," he said with gruff affection.

Harry smiled, his shining eyes crinkling at the corners. "Was it an _Ordinatus_?"

He nodded, surprised when he was able to add, "Three of them together, actually."

Harry smiled. "Ah - ordained magic, then. _Fibonaccian, Ionian, and Phrygian_?" Utterly floored, Severus could only nod again. "Hmmm - must have set up quite a dissonance with our bond considering the _Newtonian_ we're under is only half a tone away on three of the five common notes."

Impressive. "_Someone's_ been doing their homework."

Blushing, Harry chuckled. "Yeah, well, it's amazing what one picks up when one is curious and has nothing better to do while on call. Albus' explanation in the Orrery when we were handfasted got me to thinking, so I researched all twelve of them and their uses. Those are the only three which can be combined."

He put his cup on the table. "Which reminds me," he said firmly, holding Severus' gaze, "our bond. You blocked it, and I would very much like it back, please. I know why you did it and believe me, at the time it saved my arse, but right now, I'd rather suffer than be separate from you anymore."

He hesitated, wishing he knew the consequences if he did so; however, since it was Harry's choice, he did as he was bid. "Give me your hands."

Without hesitation, Harry extended them, their warmth thawing some of his cold apprehension. Severus felt something loosen within him, perhaps the last bit of the oath finally relinquishing its hold. With an inner sigh of relief, he gradually released the _Occlumency_ on their bond, opening it fully to his mate, and knew he'd been successful when Harry's eyes widened as the missing images of the day before began to pass between them.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

Walking the hallways had proved useless. The castle's whispered seductions of fame and glory made it impossible to think; its visions of the power he could wield (if he only would accept) left him cold. For some odd reason, though, he sensed his rejection to these megalomania notions perversely pleased it. The portraits, in their own irritating fashion, were far worse. All along the way, the various witches and wizards (even Arthur, for Merlin's sake) had pranced from frame to frame, greeting him as "Headmaster," the word spreading like bluebell flames ahead of him until he'd thought they'd wake the castle. For one brief moment, after a particularly noisome encounter, he'd longed for his sharp, poisoned daggers.

Eventually he'd fled to the relative quiet of his office where he'd gone through the piles of Owls Harry had thoughtfully sorted for him, hoping to put the whole thing behind him until the evening; he had classes to teach and didn't need the distraction.

He'd half-expected Albus arriving in his office near dawn to talk to him, but he'd been stunned by his frailty, his movements slow and deliberate as if he'd walked a long way. The sudden acceptance that Albus was really going to die brought no comfort. With awkward solicitousness, he'd helped the old man into his best chair, made and served him tea, and settled down to listen with no argument.

Albus had hated it.

_"Severus, stop fussing this instant! It's not becoming," he'd fumed, a tinge of colour rising in his cheeks. "I'm neither feeble nor dead yet, and we've much to discuss."_

_"Very well, but you'll let me know if you're..."_

_"Just - don't," he said peevishly. "We have no time for this." He paused, head cocked as if hearing himself. "I'm sorry, my boy. I'm just a grumpy old fart this morning. So, what does Harry think? Have you decided? And why not?"_

_"I haven't spoken to Harry about it." He looked to the side and said sheepishly, "I thought it only a dream."_

_Albus stared at him for a full minute, the silence heavy as his face worked its way from anger to black amusement. It was the amusement part he hated. "Oh, good gods," he wheezed, finally laughing, "and here I'd thought you'd the means to talk to Harry about the situation before you returned. It would have gone easier on him, on you both, had you done so; as it is, he will have problems with the knowledge he doesn't even know he possesses; the castle will hold you strictly to the letter of your oath now you've returned."_

_"What is there to think on, Albus? I'm eminently unsuitable..."_

_"Fah! You always underestimate your own worthiness!"_

_"...and I've no desire to run this school when the heads of house are against me, so it seems to me, I should just refu..."_

_"No, don't say it yet, Severus. Not until you have the whole story. First, you must understand, I did not choose the form of the ceremony, nor the need for a new centrum - the Founder's dictums and the Orrery did. Second, while no words were spoken, they are not necessary for the others to agree - the choice could not have been made without unanimous approval." When he'd made a sceptical noise, Albus had chuckled. "Oh, I admit, I was as surprised as you - the laugh was a good touch, by the way. I've always found that keeping Minerva unbalanced is sometimes the wisest course."_

Indeed, any Gryffindor for that matter, even his own at times. He sent his amusement when the unexpected mental raspberry he received in retaliation to this wayward thought, eloquently told him he'd best discipline his more unruly Slytherin notions.

_"Albus, why are you insisting I even consider this? I am the last person on earth who should be Headmaster of Hogwarts. I don't particularly like children - and I - we - have other plans. We do not intend to spend our entire lives here. So, I have to ask - why me?"_

_"I've asked myself the same question and have only found one irrefutable answer; you will never know how sorry I am that this burden befalls you, who of all people deserves peace. I never intended for you to bear it." Albus' eyes glazed for so long, he thought he'd fallen asleep with them open, until he said, so softly he had to lean in to clearly hear him, "There are hard times ahead, Severus, times that do not require the skills of an educator, but that of a wily strategist who has seen the black soul of war and is unafraid to wage it. And war it will be, with the resistance's heart and soul here at Hogwarts. It's vital there be an orderly and unbroken succession." He stopped as if recollecting where he was. "Why you, my dearest friend? Because Minerva won't fight."_

As he'd been digesting this morsel, Albus had revealed the real reason he'd come down to see him.

_"You have a more immediate problem, my friend."_

_"What? Is Minerva already plotting my slow torture? I can spare the few brain cells she has remaining and just say..."_

_"Severus, be serious!" Albus exclaimed, his voice raspy._

_"You already know the sorry answer to that one, Albus," he said drolly, the inevitable image of Sirius crossing his mind._

_Dumbledore ignored his jibe and continued as if he hadn't spoken, "Harry. Harry has seen it all. You dream-shared and the oath you've taken will do_ everything _in its considerable power to ensure that Harry forgets until you decide."_

_Uneasy, he rejoined, "Define 'everything'."_

_"It could try to hurt him if his magic tries to circumvent it, and we both know how stubborn and powerful Harry can be when he's thwarted, even unintentionally."_

_"What would you suggest I do?"_

_"There are Legilimency techniques you could..."_

_"Never! Absolutely not, Albus! You have no idea what happens..." No, that was too private. "Harry and I have an agreement; unless I can explain and obtain his consent, I will not do it without."_

_"Not even to save him?" Albus asked sharply._

_"No. Not even to save him," he declared with the utmost conviction._

_Albus nodded in acknowledgement; he supposed this disturbed him more than anything - Albus giving in without a fight usual heralded a sneaky Albus well worth watching. "Would you consider Occlumency, then...?"_

His refusal had not stopped the headmaster from telling him how to use the _Occlumency_ to block his and Harry's bond. He was grateful now he'd listened, even though he'd bristled then at the suggestion.

And they'd made a loose plan.

_"You could remove Harry from Hogwarts," Albus suggested as they'd discussed the possible means to protect Harry._

_"How will that help? I still wouldn't be allowed to explain anything to him."_

_"Quite possible, but at least he would be out of the castle's sphere of influence. I suspect once he remembers the full sequence of events, the oath and the castle will be unable to erase his knowledge nor keep him from speculation. The most they can do is block his memory. And, Severus, I was quite serious - they will do everything they can to prevent that from happening."_

He hadn't comprehended what _everything_ meant until Dobby found him right before lunch warning him that Harry had experienced some 'difficulties' that morning. But Dobby's and the headmaster's explanations had in no way prepared him for Harry's agony after lunch.

Abandoning his afternoon class, he'd strode to Dumbledore's office, hoping Harry hadn't bypassed his trip to the infirmary; after all, he could just as easily heal himself. But he somehow knew Harry would honour his promise; it was just his nature to do so. Confronting Albus, he'd demanded two Portkeys to Hana. Afterwards, he'd felt just the tiniest bit guilty in leaving Albus nearly prostrate from what had involved an almost impossible effort on his part, but Harry's predicament and well-being took precedence in his own mind.

Leaving Albus to recover, he'd gone to the kitchen for some provisions, thinking they would need only a day's worth. Another side trip, made to his private lab yielded a few extra healing potions 'just in case'. Once back in their quarters, via the door to the ramp, he'd set the Portkey for Harry near the fish tank (which he found he rather liked). When all was in place, he'd left for Hana, hoping the time away would help end what the castle was doing to his mate.

Given Harry's condition when he'd arrived in Hana a few hours ago, it had almost come too late.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

"It's like that is it?" Harry said with a rueful smile.

"I'm afraid so. And I'm sorry I blocked our bond, but it was all I could think of when I saw how much you were hurting."

"It's all right, love," he replied, their hands still tightly joined. "I know you were only thinking of my welfare, and I wasn't exactly in a position to do anything about it myself." He took a deep breath. "So let's see if I have this straight. It was supposed to have been Minerva, but he says you were chosen because 'she won't fight'?"

"So it appears."

"And _we_ would?"

"Supposedly so."

Harry leaned forward. "And you wouldn't decide without _my_ consent as well, but you couldn't speak of it to me?" He shook his head. "So really, they expected you to decide _our_ lives alone?" he asked, his voice rising.

With an effort, he resisted the call of Harry's anger roiling through him. "It would seem that way, but we don't really know that," he said, serenely. "Albus did try to give us time to discuss the issues before we returned. _I'm_ the one who squandered the opportunity."

Ah, mission accomplished; Harry was calming, but not as much as he would have liked as he snapped, "Oh? How so?"

A guilty defensiveness colouring his words, he replied, "Remember? I thought it was a dream."

Harry stared at him, saying briskly, "So you did, and with every right to think so." He pulled a face. "I'm sorry, I'm explaining this badly; there's just so much whirling in my head right now, it's hard to know where to begin. I am not upset with you for this situation, Severus. But what I don't understand is why did Albus leave something this important to chance? I can't help but think this was not a random event as he claims."

While Harry might still be confused, he could clearly see the fallacy of his husband's question and was once again grateful Albus had shared why he thought he'd been chosen. "I believe it was," he replied, sending to Harry his complete conviction in the statement.

Sceptical, Harry asked, "Why would you think that?" His eyes narrowed. "And don't think I don't know what you're trying to do, either. You're always defending him - even when he least deserves it."

He would _not_ react to such a loaded statement, nor would he give Harry an excuse for the argument he so obviously wanted. He took the moment to choose his words with care; they needed to rationally discuss this, not fight over it. "The day you quit the Auror training, before Fudge arrived, Albus asked me to be Minerva's Deputy for the second time. I accepted because I saw it as a way to secure my future, for even with the public acknowledgement of the part I played in the war, I still regularly received howlers expressing - lingering doubts of my loyalties."

And he'd thought he would be facing the future alone, but with the tightening of Harry's hands on his own, he knew he didn't need to say it aloud.

"Albus was correct when he said Minerva and I learned the ceremonies required for her to assume command of Hogwarts _after_ Albus died, and for four years the plan stood unchanged." He loosened his hold on Harry's hands, stroking the backs of them, though who he was trying to soothe wasn't clear in his own mind.

"Then we learned of Albus' illness and, although it was news to us, I don't believe it was news to him. I think he'd known about it for quite some time, but held off telling anyone else. I'm not denying Albus knew this might happen someday; his illness alone would have been a very good indicator of the possibility, but I don't think even he knew when, or that _I_ would be chosen."

"Why not? He's always using the Orrery to make his plans," he voice grew sarcastic, "see the future. Why could he not have seen this as well?"

Severus sat back in the chair. Harry's valid argument did put a whole different spin on the situation, but his instincts told him it wasn't the truth, but how best to explain it? While he thought on it, Harry pulled away and left to make another pot of tea. Several minutes later, time in which Severus put the polish on his response, Harry returned with the tea and four simple ham sandwiches on a paper plate.

"Seems I owe you several apologies the least of which is for these dreadful things, but I had to make do at Kaneshiro's since the bread had not yet been delivered. At least the ham is fresh."

As he took the plate and set it down, Severus chuckled. "The only thing 'Wonder' about this bread is when one 'wonders' why anyone eats it. The ham is courtesy of Dobby; he was in a bit of a rush to make me leave the kitchen - seems I was 'terrorizing' the house-elves."

"Not you," Harry replied slyly, then laughed. "All right, now that we have something resembling sustenance, I am assuming you used the time to think your way around my argument. You always do somehow." He balanced the plate on his knees and took a bite of the sandwich, grimacing. "Awful," he said around the food in his mouth, "makes one want to test the theory that one can eat sawdust. Can't see much difference."

Severus snorted. "It's not too bad; I'm not picky when I'm starving." He ate a half and then set his plate aside. "You eat, I'll talk."

When Harry nodded, he began, "If you'll recall, when Albus said he would be teaching me how to use the Orrery, I asked why Minerva couldn't use it and he said it was because she had no bondmate, then implied the lack shouldn't interfere with her duties as headmistress."

Harry's attention sharpened. "You're right - on the day we left for Hana. Very well, I concede he didn't anticipate a change in the plans. But what changed his mind? The duel?"

"I'm thinking there may be several reasons, actually, and yes, the duel is only one of them. Near the end of it, I could feel Albus struggling to respond to my spells. In that respect, you were correct, I did 'pull some punches' because I didn't want to injure him. And I could have, now that I see the whole picture. I don't think Albus knew just how weakened he was until that moment. He thought he would have more time, not less. I believe he was telling the truth when he said he reassessed the situation and conferred with the Orrery upon his return. That he would do so was probably something he'd thought of for a long time, just not then."

"All right, I can see that, but he said there would be hard times ahead, something _we_ had to contest."

"True, and I think he was referring to Lucius. We've known for years that Malfoy was up to something long-term, but no one had any idea the extent of his commitment until the day of our wedding when he tried to kill us both. I know it feels like forever, but in reality, our joining occurred only ten days ago. This means Lucius views me, no - us, to be the real threat."

"But why? We've left him well alone. Now we've a valid reason to go after him," his voice hardened, "and Avery. And I have to ask, wouldn't your position to do so be strengthened if you were headmaster?"

"Possible, but not probable. Or at least not from Albus' perspective."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"It has always been known and assumed, by everyone, that Minerva would take over as headmistress. This would mean we were no threat to Lucius' plans, unless he had reason to believe we could circumvent her in some manner, which we probably would as neither one of us have ever really listened to her if we thought she was wrong."

Harry gave him a lopsided smile. "It's amazing how one's perspective changes when one leaves Hogwarts, doesn't it?"

"Well, at least where McGonagall's concerned, it does," he muttered, although that 'you-took-my-toy' look she'd worn the other night would sustain him through years of unpleasantness from her, regardless of his decision.

He took a much-needed sip of his tea. "However, back to task. To Albus, I would not have to be in a position of power to neutralize the bastards. In fact, given our past history, my anonymity would be the asset, not my tenure in his position. But to the castle, imbued with the founders' intentions? Only they, it, would weigh the power of Hogwarts into the forthcoming struggle, any struggle for that matter. And if one thinks on it, Hogwarts has _always_ been so much at the heart of every conflict, it makes one wonder if Albus himself wasn't chosen for that very reason." He sighed. "No, Albus has been so much a part of it, for so many years, he no longer sees how much of his abilities are his and how much of them are bestowed. He would not have necessarily considered the advantage, although he clearly sees it now."

Harry's shoulders slumped as he whispered, "So you think Albus was telling the truth: Minerva won't fight, but we will. Is that the right of it?"

"I think so."

He sprang from his chair and started pacing the room, the anger held so long at bay finally released. His hands gesticulating wildly, he exclaimed, "Goddamn it, don't we EVER get any _real_ choices? Oh, yeah, this is a good one. Save the Wizarding world, _again_ I might add, and sacrifice what _we_ want, or do as we please and watch the whole thing go pear-shaped. Some fucking choice."

Knowing precisely how Harry felt, it was difficult to control himself enough to observe, "But do we even know what _we_ really want?"

Abruptly Harry stopped, brusquely brushing imaginary dust from his shorts. Idly, he noted his spouse was wearing clothing he must have left behind in the house. "Severus, I'm sorry. It's not you. It's me. I just have to - I just need..." he said, then resolutely turned, walking to the front door.

"I wouldn't know anything about needing to be alone," Severus murmured to the closing door.

He moved to the open corner windows and watched Harry walk far away down the empty beach picking up rocks as he found them, then throwing them far out into the ocean. When he was almost to the edge of his sight, he saw him straighten, then throw something out over the waves with quite some force. As it arced in the air, it suddenly exploded in a shower of magic. He bent again for several moments, and straightening, started lobbing those things he'd found as well, each one bursting before they ever hit the surface. Then as suddenly as he started, he stopped, dropping to the sand with his knees pulled tight to his chest.

It dawned on Severus as he watched the forlorn figure barely visible on the beach, that Harry had walked as far as he had because he didn't think Severus could see him; his husband's eyesight, even with correction, never had matched his own. Well, at least he could give him his privacy and, going back to his chair, he poured another cup of tea, picked up his unfinished meal, and settled back to wait.

Gods, what a situation, a thrice damned farce blind-siding him on his soft side. It should have been another, but he'd been chosen. By Albus - damn his shining eyes. By his peers - damn their cowardice. By the founders - damn their living legacy.

Therein lay his one weakness - their unequivocal approval, something he'd always wanted but had never received outright. Well, now he had it; he should have known there would be a terrible price for it, though. And no matter how much he might not want to pay the cost, especially now that he had a chance at real peace, a real home in Hana, he was hard-pressed to refuse it.

But he could. And all he had to do to make it disappear forever, to garner his other future, was to utter one, two-lettered word. One simple syllable and they would be free, the task would go to the one previously chosen to bear it, the one who really wanted it - and he'd yet to say it.

Why had he not? Because Albus was right, damn his eyes. War or something equally heinous was coming; his little 'holiday' with Lucius had convinced him as nothing else could. Somewhere in there, Malfoy thought them, _together_, a threat so dire he'd taken the substantial risk of tipping his hand in order to separate them, and kill them if he could, before they could join. But not for revenge. No, it was because _they_ were the direct threat. They were his biggest obstacles, the resistance he would not be able to circumvent when the time came. And why? 'Because Minerva won't fight.'

But they would.

There it was, the root of his indecision.

As was Harry. He couldn't, no wouldn't, decide without Harry's honest opinion. The deep anger notwithstanding, he was humbled by Harry's continuing trust in him. Despite everything that had happened to his mate because of his hesitation, there'd been no accusations, no recriminations, none of the things he truly deserved. Instead, Harry's thoughts had only been of him, of how _he_ was being used. The thoughts of how it affected his life, their life, had only come at the end and, even then, his anger was directed at the situation, not at him personally.

He knew this. Just as he knew, with what his lover had murmured as he fallen asleep last night, his heart had almost burst; it had been all he could do to hold him tight and whisper his name.

At last, a fragile peace settled over him. His oath be damned - his vows took precedence, and somehow he knew Albus had expected this all along. Very well, he could accept the burden, heavy though it was, but only on his own terms and only if Harry stood by his side in complete agreement.

The whole bloody thing be damned.

And no matter the outcome, he stood stronger with the incontrovertible knowledge that Harry would love him anyway; it was the only constant now in his life as he stepped off the precipice, no longer hoping, but _knowing_ Harry would catch him if he fell.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

TBC


	48. Part III : A Decision is Made?

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Forty Eight : A Decision is Made?**

**Tuesday 4 November 2003 HST** Continued

As the morning's heat invaded the house, he'd first opened all the windows to the cooler breeze before showering and stealing some clothes out of Harry's side of the closet. Although they were almost of a height, Harry's broader shoulders meant the butter-soft shirt (missing three centre buttons) bagged loosely as did the shorts slung low on his more slender hips. But they were clean and certainly cooler than the heavy teaching robes he'd worn on his arrival and the one change of jeans and shirt he'd thought to bring with him.

Not bothering to button those remaining, he rolled the sleeves up his forearms as he foraged in their lone narrow bookcase. His brooding long done, he reviewed the dearth of reading material available to while the time. History, or history, or history seemed to be his primary choices unless one counted the three cheesy romance novels Poppy had left behind, which he didn't. He was about to surrender to history when he spotted a wire-bound Muggle tourist guide for the island of Maui. Thumbing through the well-worn pages, he decided it might be useful. So with shabby book in hand, he relocated to the sofa and was halfway down the tortuous road to Hana from Lahaina (via the sunrise at Haleakala National Park) when a shadow crossed the page and a weary voice asked, "Mind if I join you?"

With a neutral glance at the sober face, Severus carefully marked his place with a sales receipt he'd found in the back, setting it on the floor next to him. Making room on the deep seat, he scooted his arse tight to its back, saying dryly, "Only if you promise not to steal these pillows as well."

Counting it a small victory when Harry smiled, he patiently waited as his mate settled, his head comfortably resting in the crook of his shoulder. Holding Harry with no eye for time was always something to savour, so he cleared his thoughts and worries, relishing the warm weight of the loved body against him. By slow degrees Harry relaxed, his infrequent sighs changing from anxiety to contentment.

A dream or two later, Harry cleared his throat, breaking the sleepy silence. "I suppose we should discuss it."

"I'm not in any particular hurry," he said, blinking awake. "However, if you're ready to talk, so am I."

"I wouldn't say I'm ready, but I'm as near as never mind. What is it you want to know?"

What did he want? Given the situation they faced, the loose body snuggled tight to him, the lingering stupor of the late morning's heat, not to mention the peace he'd found in this house, there were many things he wanted, a couple he might even prefer, but unfortunately only one for which he had the time. "I need to know..." Where to begin? "What _you_ want. How you think this whole - decision - fits into your life..." he faltered "...our life..." he stumbled "...our future?"

He felt Harry smile against his chest. "Don't ask for much do you? Can you even say _you_ know what you want?"

"Other than you?" With only the one certainty, he ruefully shook his head. "It pains me to admit I don't know."

"Didn't think so. I can see why you're undecided, though. So am I."

"About me," Severus teased, "or about the situation?"

The silent chuckle jiggled his belly. "You're impossible." Harry shifted to lie on his back and stared up at the ceiling, his smile fading. "It's all about choices, isn't it? On one hand I want this for you, assuming you do, too; you'd be a good headmaster."

Severus' denigrating chuff stirred the hair on top of Harry's head. "Hardly."

Green eyes tracked back to his, holding them captive. "Albus is right, you know," Harry said with some impatience. "You _do_ needlessly discount your value - it's quite maddening at times and always unjustified. With all the talents and skills you possess, you'd make an outstanding _anything_ you choose to be. And it doesn't much matter _what_ it is - I'd be proud of you whether you remained a persnickety Potions master, or retired as a Hana eccentric, or assumed the role of a humble headmaster." Harry's eyes crinkled. "Though I'm not quite certain you can do anything humbly."

He couldn't clearly define the unfamiliar sensations surging through him with Harry's assertions, but could spare no further thought on them as Harry continued, "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I will accept whatever you decide. Severus, in all our time together and even before, it's _always_ been about Harry's future, Harry's welfare - seems to me _your_ turn to shine is long overdue."

Harry was wrong; he _could_ do humble, but as much as his lover's unstinting approval filled him with a deep pleasure, its very ambiguity left him strangely bereft.

Yet Harry's eyes - it would be so easy to sink into their loving depths, to take his willing lips, like this, to draw him closer, to accept his comfort, like this, to embrace the eagerness pressing back against him, the strong arms pulling him closer, the long legs holding him fast, like this. "It would be so easy - to stay here - like this." He covered those tantalizing lips again with his own, his tongue invoking the helpless noises his lover couldn't contain as he made love to his mouth. "So easy to want." The hands under his shirt burned him, gliding, clutching, kneading - the fevered skin under his mouth shivered, at first rough, scratchy, then oh so smooth and salty, flushed and alive. "So easy to need." Hardness, pressure, sliding, building, rising, tightening, arching, shuddering, pulsing...

"Oh gods, Severus!"

...so easy to ride the bright flash of pleasure, so easy to gentle two pounding hearts with soft lips and whispered endearments, so easy to relax in the peace that followed.

So easy to love.

So hard to forget.

So hard to say those things he'd never uttered before. So hard to suppress the pride, the independence, the yearning. So hard to beg. "I need you; I need your help. I can't go it alone. Please don't leave me blind as well. Tell me. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you fear. Tell me, _please_. _I_ need to know it."

Jumbled images and emotions assaulted his inner eye as Harry tried to bring order to chaos. "All right, love. I understand. I suppose the tantrum I had outside should serve some useful purpose, although I'd thought to spare you the gory details."

Fussing with the tail of his shirt, which had rucked up enticingly around his midriff, Harry straightened it out underneath him before shifting himself around with low frustrated growls. While Severus patiently endured his mate's obvious bid for more time, he skated his fingertips in slow, soothing circles on the soft skin of Harry's waist and chest. Closing his eyes with a contented sigh, his body relaxing deeper into the cushions, it wasn't much later when Harry began softly, "I have no concerns about me; however, I do have concerns about _us_."

He hesitated. Some response seemed necessary. "How so?"

"It seems to me that any decision you make about what you're going to do has little to no effect on what I have to do. My course is fairly well set for quite a while: I have to learn how to control this damned magic of mine and continue my practice as a healer. Assuming we can successfully separate our mutual careers as well as we've done so far, this shouldn't be any more bother than it ever is."

For a moment he concentrated on the silky skin gliding under the pads of his fingers before replying, "As headmaster, our time together would be even more limited than it is now. Instead of just the Slytherins, I would have to deal with all the houses."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hmmm. Perhaps you need to stop thinking as a head of house and more like a headmaster. I should think delegation works wonders; why else would there be four others to help with the load? Frankly, I think this was one of Albus' biggest mistakes. He couldn't help but meddle and didn't allow others to just do their jobs; instead he tried to lead every effort while maintaining his own position, which is rather like an orchestra maestro trying to conduct a symphony while playing first violin."

"Hmmm. And tone deaf as well," he murmured.

"Besides, if you took the position, it could give us a goal to work towards together."

"Oh? You have something against Minerva, too?"

Amusement tinged his voice. "I'm thinking that, with your mastery of the Orrery and my peculiar talents, combined with some experimentation, we could make one of the doors on the ramp connect directly here. I mean if Albus can have you magically in two places at once, why couldn't we do it, too?"

Amazing. He'd never thought of using the Orrery in such a manner, but he'd wager Harry was right. "Interesting notion and certainly tempting."

Looser, more confident, Harry lifted his face up, nibbling on Severus' jaw. "Tell, me. If Minerva gets the new quarters, does that mean we get our old ones back?"

Severus pulled his head back in surprise. "I don't know. I assume we would get something - hadn't got that far." He shifted the pillow better under his elbow and head; it was getting uncomfortably flat. "And if I choose to retire and move out here?"

Harry shrugged. "The location's not much of an obstacle. First off, I can't see either of us moving away from Albus; we both will want to stay close to him until he dies. I can also see us staying a bit longer to help Poppy, assuming she survives him, which I somehow think she won't." Severus nodded in acknowledgement. "And afterwards? I can still train in England if it's necessary. Are we not wizards? Are there not Portkeys?" he asked, framing the air with his hands. With an impish smile, he added, "But if you do, I _will_ expect you to at least learn how to cook. It's beyond me how someone who can brew such perfect fame and glory can't make a decent stew."

"I hate to cook."

"Well, I hate being on call, but we both have to live with these little inconveniences."

"Fair enough, although I hope you like a limited menu," he grumbled good-naturedly.

He shivered as Harry reached up and licked his ear and again when he whispered huskily, "I suspect I can consume just about anything you have to offer."

"Ah, so 'snacks' will be considered _à la carte_?" Control, control, control...

"Absolutely," Harry murmured as he continued down from his ear to his neck, the light nibbles stippling his skin. "Damn, didn't we just do this? I feel like I haven't had you in months."

"Maybe it's partly the house, most definitely our bond; we've only been married nine days."

Harry pulled his head back to the pillow. "Really? Seems longer than that." He couldn't contain the snort of laughter when Harry counted them on his fingers. "Yep. Nine days it is." He eyed Severus' throat. "Distracting, though." He folded his hands on his waist. "I vote we finish this so we can play when we're done." Waggling his brows, he quipped, "Don't want to 'eat and run', so to speak."

No one of his acquaintance could help smiling at a Harry grin; he was no exception. Concentrate. He tried to remember where he'd left off. Ah, yes - retirement. "I suppose the decision to retire will depend on how insufferable Minerva acts as headmistress, although it will be interesting to see if she actually carries out Dumbledore's instructions, or decides to go with her own 'conscience'." Better, much better, although licking the devilish smirk off of Potter's mouth still held a wicked appeal. "They rarely agree, you know."

Harry replied, "Didn't have much cause to know that, but doesn't surprise me much - Minerva doesn't agree with many folks."

At Severus', "Hmph," Harry added, "And that takes me back to the other concern I had."

"What concern is that?" Severus asked seriously, catching the new tenor of Harry's thoughts.

Harry was silent for several long moments. "Pardon my bluntness, but I have no idea how to say this - diplomatically."

"And I'm the prince of tact?"

Chuckling, Harry replied, "Good point." He took a deep breath. "All right - I'm afraid that being headmaster could change you, change our relationship and I happen to love every inch of you, just the way you are. Oh, I know we'll change as we age, it is sort of inevitable, but I'd always thought we'd do it together, each pacing the other. But a lifetime commitment as headmaster? It might put you a step out of synch with me right from the beginning, before we've even found our stride."

Sceptical, he replied, "I think you've been hanging about Poppy too much."

"Well, her husband did tell me to trust my instincts, so hold on; what I've been thinking just 'feels' right, though."

"That's such a Gryffindor thing to say."

He briefly wondered what Harry would do if he were to suddenly suck in that tongue so cheekily presented to him? But not for long; Harry's face was too earnest afterwards to cheapen it with his irreverent amusement.

Slowly, Harry opined, "I think the castle profoundly changed Albus. I think he was seduced by the very power he maintained. This didn't necessarily make him weak or evil, but it did make him vulnerable. Poppy has as much said so. And then there's the red hair."

"Red hair?"

"Yeah. Have you ever met a redhead as calm as Albus? Because I haven't. Take the Weasleys; they may be fun-loving and the nicest people on the planet, but ho - do they have tempers?"

"I wouldn't know. Arthur seems fairly unruffled to me, though."

"Ah, yes, but you've never seen him glare at a Malfoy, either. It's fairly impressive."

It was hard envisioning Arthur glaring at anyone, but he would take Harry's word for it.

Harry continued, "I think a good part of Albus' serenity is due to the castle's influence. Now that could be a good thing, but what if you'd fallen in love with 'your' bad-tempered git - all prickly and hot-headed on the outside but all sweet and gooey as a roasted marshmallow on the inside...?"

"I am not," he declared stoutly.

"I wasn't speaking of you," Harry said with a secret smile. Infuriating boy. "I _was_ talking about Albus."

Oops.

"Poppy has said some things over the years that makes me think she misses her fiery redhead, that the changes, while useful to Albus as headmaster, were things she's had to learn to accept. And I'm not sure I want to lose _my_ snarky Potions master."

Snarky? When had he become snarky? He hastily turned his attention back to Harry, who hadn't stopped.

"...not to mention the heavy-handed way Albus makes decisions. Will you use the same methods? Will I be expected to accept them without recourse or explanation as Poppy has done over the years? Because if this is the case, I can see us having some serious - discussions - about it. I won't be another Poppy. I won't silently fume and swallow my opinions."

Poppy had always seemed fairly forthright to him, but who knew what she'd been like before he'd been born, or how she was with her spouse. After all, he couldn't imagine they'd been any more forthcoming in public than he and Harry, especially considering they'd kept their marriage a fairly tight secret for seventy-odd years. He said as much and added, "I wouldn't expect you to swallow anything." He raised a brow at Harry's amused snort, chuckling when he realised what he'd said. "Guttersnipe! You _know_ what I meant."

"Don't you mean 'gutterSnape'?"

It was his turn to contemplate the ceiling. Good gads. "May I continue now?" Harry nodded after pulling his head down for a small nip. Smiling, he continued. "Personally, I see you as an equal partner and, should I accept, I would seek your ideas."

Harry pressed soft lips against his in a chaste kiss. He wanted more, but waited instead; he could sense another shift into utter seriousness. "While I appreciate the sentiment, I'm not certain you can."

Severus raised a brow. He didn't think he'd ever seen Harry's face more resolute than at this moment, not even when they were bound.

"You said the castle is semi-sentient, but I don't believe that's the case at all. I think it's not only fully cognizant of its actions, it hides that fact in the actions of the headmaster. Its actions against me, for example, bore no malice, but they were - purposeful. And it's powerful; at the end, it was _very_ determined. Even Albus couldn't stop it, although I don't know if that was due to his current weakness, or because he really is nothing more than a custodian to a living, breathing castle imbued with the very essence of its founders. An essence, I might add, that seems quite capable of acting alone if need be."

Stunned, Severus could only stare. What if Harry was correct? The thought of anything forcing him to act against his will or better judgement again made his stomach clench.

As if sensing the effect his words had made, Harry touched his cheek lightly. "I could be wrong, you know. Probably am. Albus is a good man, a bit manipulative at times, but so are you; I suspect that's the Slytherin in you both more than anything else." He yawned, snuggling closer. "You want my opinion? Not that I'm biased or anything, but I've always thought Minerva would make a horrible headmistress; she's far too rigid and blind to everything but her own world view. I think the opportunity is fantastic, and I know you want it, know you have so many innovative ideas about the school, how it's run, the traditions it follows. They're good ideas from a good man who would make a good headmaster."

He sighed, his fingers pushing an escaped tendril back behind Severus' ear. "You know what finally made me come back from my walk?" He shook his head. "It was the realization that, despite my fears, despite my worries, nothing can touch us, Severus, if we don't let it. Not where it really matters, as long as _we're_ together." Smoothing more hair off his face, Harry trailed his hand down Severus' cheek and neck to rest on his chest. "Never much had a home except the one I've found with you. I'm thinking that _my_ home, the only one I really need isn't about walls or floors or roofs or ramps or even where those things reside."

Bereft of words, he could only nod and take the sweet kiss Harry offered so trustingly. How had he ever earned it? Lowering his face to his husband, it felt odd having _his_ lips taken in a serious kiss and yet...

"Now do you see why I said I'd support you, regardless of your decision? Sorry, love, it's not about me this time. It's about you and what you want. I'm just along for the ride."

He cleared his throat of the residual fear stuck in it. "And if the horse should buck?"

Harry laughed through another yawn. "I may not be skilled at much, but I'm pretty damned good at picking myself up off the floor and giving it another go."

He kissed him again, a long serious kiss that led nowhere further than the two of them tangling on the sofa, Harry gradually falling asleep. As he studied the dark lashes fanned out on slightly tanned cheeks, he couldn't help but think that Harry was right; he did pick himself up well. Unfortunately, the skill had only been necessary whenever he'd hurt him.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

**Wednesday 5 November 2003 GMT**

Stretching the pain out of his lower back, Severus decided that napping on the sofa had not been one of his brighter ideas, not that he'd had much choice. Moving twelve or so stones of Harry to the bedroom was nigh on impossible without waking him (even with magic) and sleeping alone in the bed (assuming he could have wriggled his way off the couch without injuring himself) even more so. However, the ensuing back 'rub' Harry employed (purely for healing purposes, of course) had contained some wondrous analgesic properties, albeit temporary, and made him realise he'd missed one of the better ways of 'carrying' Harry's twelve or so stones.

It was a matter of a few minutes to clean up the house considering they'd brought almost nothing to it. They regretfully took a look around knowing it would be months before their return, and with heavy hearts, they together spoke the command to activate the Portkey. The transport long and rough, he landed on a hard surface, very disoriented. Once his vision cleared, he understood Harry's low whistle.

They were in the Rotunda.

"Bit presumptuous, wouldn't you say?" Harry remarked drolly.

"Indeed. One would think I'd already made up my mind."

Harry glanced at him sharply. "And have you?"

"Almost, but not in a way that would earn me _this_ privilege."

His eyes understanding, Harry nodded. "A bribe then?"

"Possible, I suppose. Not that it would sway me." He looked up and around then set off for their bedroom, ignoring the fish tank in the middle. "Beats walking from outside the castle's wards, though." He glanced at the clock as they walked into the main chamber. "I hate the time difference. It's already 6:30 am; we need to get ready."

While Harry showered, he undressed, hastily donning his dressing gown against the chill. After raising the fire, he walked across the room to the wardrobe and, resigned to long habit, began choosing his clothes for a day of teaching. As he pulled out the heavy outer robe, a glint in the back caught his eye. Gently moving the remainder of the clothes aside, he stared at Salazar's gleaming robes. Fingering the gem encrusted cuff, he realised that, if he accepted, he would not only have give these up, but find someone to fill them.

"Would it have to be someone as tall?" Harry asked behind him.

Heart pounding, he replaced back in his sleeve the wand he'd drawn reflexively. Turning to face him, he cooly replied, "Not necessarily. The robes fit to the person when worn."

Diffidently, Harry asked, "May I see them?"

Reluctantly he acquiesced, whispering a releasing spell as he pulled them to the fore of the wardrobe, hanging them in front of his other clothes. He shivered when Harry ran his hand down the sleeve stopping short of the wide, deep cuff, his skin stippling as if the fingertips trailing the heavy silk of the under robe were touching him instead. "Beautiful," Harry breathed, his eyes wide and shining. He stepped away, his hands behind his back as Severus returned them to their protected place in the rear of the wardrobe.

Closing the door firmly, he rasped, "I'll be getting ready now," but had no more turned when Harry's hand on his arm stopped him. Moving behind him, his spouse slid his arms around his waist, resting his cheek on his shoulder. It was comforting, something he'd not known he needed, but gratefully accepted as he laid a hand across Harry's, the other carrying his robes.

"It will be all right, love. You'll see," Harry said, kissing his neck from behind. The arms released him as slowly as they'd taken him and, without looking back, he fled to the bathroom.

Punishing, the hard, brutal spray of the scalding shower began to alleviate an inexplicable anger filling him; why he needed it and what he was trying to scour he didn't know, but when finished, he felt calmer - clean and whole again. As he worked into the long strands of his hair the potion he favoured to keep it from falling inadvertently into his brews, he chuckled derisively, calling himself three times a fool for his sudden bad temper. Harry had understood, and had told him so in his own quiet fashion, just as he realised his lover had not been speaking of the beauty of Salazar's robes, but rather had somehow touched the memory of _him_ in them.

Harry was sitting cross-legged in the window seat, staring out at the sunrise when he finally came out of the bathroom. He slid an arm around his husband's shoulders and watched with him, the breaking light thin with the coming of winter. He kissed Harry on top of his head, murmuring, "I've often wondered which god's arse I inadvertently kissed to be deemed worthy of your attention."

Smiling, Harry asked, "Which god controls serendipitous chance that a man such as yourself could see past a frightened child to love the man he would become?" He lifted his head and kissed him. "No, don't answer. You've already said it. Against all odds, we've struck a balance." The next kiss was long and sweet, cleansing and fulfilling. "_Semper te amabo_," Harry whispered, swinging around to face him. "I'll always be yours."

He held him for a long time; the body wrapped around his gifted him that balance Harry so blithely spoke of, an inner peace he rarely achieved. He didn't want to lose this, lose Harry. There was nothing - no want, no desire - which could ever supersede his overwhelming need for the man held close to him. And with that knowledge, that final admission within himself, the decision was simple and so easy to make.

Harry pulled away, his eyes questioning. "Are you certain?" he asked quietly.

"Absolutely."

He held back all but his smile; Harry was so predictable in so many things sometimes. Like that dog with its bone, he pressed the issue. "But is that what you _want_?"

"What I want is you. Plain and simple. I'll not risk _us_ for _anything_."

Nodding, Harry lifted his face to him, his eyes closing, but not before Severus saw a lingering pain he couldn't describe. The kiss was almost desperate, a questing more than anything else, but loving and accepting nonetheless. With a sigh they regretfully parted when the clock on the mantel chimed urgently, telling them to hurry or they'd be late.

With no further comment needed, they left to go to breakfast and the start of the new day.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

Harry found it tiresome that, once again, he was hurrying to lunch after spending most of his morning twiddling his thumbs waiting for a patient who'd finally arrived hours late for her appointment. He didn't know which had been more annoying - having wasted his time, or spending far too much of it brooding on the unbelievable events at breakfast.

Severus had been more than attentive; he'd been almost painfully _public_. Unmindful of the open stares, he'd taken his hand in the corridors on their way to the Great Hall. His hand had burned through his robes where it rested in the small of his back as he'd seated him at the head table before taking his own. After pouring him tea and adding his milk and sugar, he'd served him toast - with Marmite - for Merlin's sake! And of course, with Albus chatting a mile a minute, there'd been no time to ask.

Then _that_ kiss in the staff room, sans the guilty flicker over his shoulder, sufficiently startled him into making a comment. The ensuing sweet smile had been unusual in itself, but that his question was answered with another searing kiss floored him. Bemused, he'd wordlessly watched his spouse swirl out the room, wondering if, in reality, he was still in bed dreaming.

What the hell was happening? It was as if someone had dropped him into an alternate universe. Severus smiling in public and Albus cranky in private. Oh, the old man had checked out in much better shape than he deserved, Harry had seen to that before he'd left for his morning appointment, but there'd been a sharp edge to Albus' flat attempts at humour. Poor sod - this waiting must be torture for him. Might be good for the old bugger at that.

Lost in his fruitless ruminations, he rounded a corner at a determined clip, barreling into another body moving equally fast from the other direction. Who it was didn't register until the arms initially raised to steady them both, slid around his waist to embrace him briefly, before partially releasing him. The low, amused chuckle rippled through him quite pleasantly as a familiar dulcet baritone asked him, "Going my way?"

In a split second of decision, Harry replied coyly, "Perhaps. Have you seen my Potions master? I seem to have misplaced him sometime around breakfast."

He almost lost his nerve when glittering eyes gazed hungrily into his as Severus said silkily, "Oh, him? The greasy git? I think I left him in the dungeons somewhere."

It was the _other_ Severus, the one he didn't know. Experimentally, he touched Severus' cheek and almost panicked - this was not his husband, even the bond felt wrong, twisted, with the same surreality one would experience if the sky suddenly turned green. And Severus obviously wasn't reading his reaction right either if the mouth descending to his was any indication of his apparent blindness to Harry's strong emotions.

Sliding his arms around Severus' neck, he let him take the kiss. Even the feel of his lips was wrong as if he were being kissed by a total stranger. Severus deepened it; under normal circumstances he'd be a puddle of goo about now, so, to buy him some time, he groaned and pressed close, hoping Severus wouldn't notice that he was in no way aroused.

He didn't.

Harry had to think quickly, he didn't know how long he could fool him. Imperius? He couldn't remember if Severus could break it, but realised his _Legilimency_ skills must make it nearly impossible to cast one successfully or else Voldemort could have controlled him early on. So it had to be subtle. A compulsion? No, again for the same reasons. Something new, something insidious since Severus didn't seem to be aware of anything amiss.

Something _he_ had to stop - now.

Acting on an instinct, he drew his wand out of his sleeve behind Severus' head. Gathering his courage and magic and body together, in one fluid movement he sharply wrenched himself out of Severus' arms while shouting a binding spell. The 'something' fought him a second before the spell took hold, a moment when Harry switched from fear to white hot anger.

It was the castle doing it.

Breathing hard, he raged, "What the hell did you do with my husband?"

"What the - what are you raving about, Harry?"

He had to steady Severus as he struggled against the binding, but it held as he'd known it would; he'd placed quite a bit of righteously brassed-off Harry behind it. Severus glared daggers at him, sputtering as he futilely cast wandless spells trying to break free. Then he stood stock still, his head tilted as if listening to something far away. His face fell. "Oh gods, Harry, I..." He dropped his head and went loose against the binding.

"Severus?" Was this _his_ Severus? He stepped closer, cupping Severus' cheeks with both hands, lifting the loved face to him, his heart soaring as he could feel them, feel their bond again as if nothing had happened. With heartfelt relief, he leaned his forehead against that of his husband's as he murmured the counterspell to release him. They stood still for a few moments, Severus hesitantly taking his hand, as ever mindful of their public location, yet needing the contact as much as Harry did himself at the moment. He could feel Severus' pulse racing, pounding where their hands twined.

"When did it start?" he asked, trying to calm them both. Oh Merlin, what if - all those wonderful words Severus had uttered before they'd left this morning - were they an illusion, too? His stomach burned.

"Am I so easily overcome...?"

"Damn it, Severus! It's over! Listen to me! When. Did. It. Start?"

His eyes glazed with thought, Harry could almost see him running through his memory. Finally, after some moments, he replied, "I think it made an unsuccessful attempt during my shower, but I would have to say it started in the corridor on our way to breakfast. It's hard to recall. Gads, I was even nice to my students this morning."

Harry hung in his head in a relief so profound he was almost sick. "Thank the gods," he whispered, "I don't know if I could have borne it had your words..."

A hand, _his_ Severus' hand, tipped his face up to meet his steady gaze. "No, what I said before we left our apartments were _my_ words. And I meant _every_ one of them." Severus took a step back. "Damn it! I wavered only for an instant, but I know now how it feels. It _won't_ happen again." A deep anger settled in his eyes. "I will _not_ be controlled like this, nor manipulated into a different decision."

"You weren't its final goal, Severus," he whispered in abject misery. "It was trying to convince _me_, trying to placate me with something I only thought I'd wanted." Dropping his eyes, he couldn't meet the understanding gaze any longer. "I know better now. And I understand more. It's really trying to satisfy _both_ of us."

"In an underhanded way, I suppose so."

"In the only way it knows how." Harry kissed him briefly, glad of Severus' reserve when his eyes glanced down the corridor as he pulled away.

"Harry, what if it tries something else?"

While the words were spoken with an authoritative calmness, the grip on his hand tightened, an almost unnatural worry coming through clearly. This shaken confidence was a side to Severus he'd never seen before and never wanted to again.

Perhaps he could help? Smiling in an effort to cheer, he said lightly, "I guess it's my turn this time."

Brow raised, Severus asked, "Your turn for what?"

"This," he said, closing his eyes, pushing gently on their bond, something he'd never tried before, rippling it, moving it to surround Severus, gently urging it to enfold him, protect him. He could feel it starting from a tingling in Severus' chest, radiating outward, as their bond - and Harry - warded him. It continued growing until it encompassed them both, providing an invisible barrier of protection. When it joined full circle in him, he slowly released it, now an almost living thing within them.

"Do you feel it? Feel us?" Harry whispered, "Like a shield?"

Bemused, Severus replied, "Yes."

It sang around them, carrying within it a piece of each of them to protect the other. "I'm sorry, I don't know how long this will hold, but hopefully, with some vigilance, it will last at least til this evening."

"Constant vigilance," Severus murmured with a snort, then sobering, whispered, "Thank you, love. I think it will be more than..."

Harry knew he would have said more, but with the sound of slapping boots on the stone floor coming towards them, Severus hastily dropped his hand, placing more air between them.

A wayward Ravenclaw's detention later they made their way to their late lunch, each lost in their thoughts, yet heartened by the _feel_ of the other inside.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

TBC


	49. Part III : Introductions à Deux

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
**Chapter Forty Nine : Introductions à Deux**

**Wednesday 5 November 2003 GMT**, Continued

Severus found it ironic that the man who'd first been honest enough to tell him, "Life's not fair, get over it," was seated only three chairs down from Albus on the other side of the table. He wished, as always, the old man was wrong, but he'd found nothing, as yet, to prove it otherwise. Which was probably why Severus had immense respect for Septimius as a wizard and might even admit to a certain fondness for the old man, but he really didn't like being with him very much; he was right far too often for any real comfort.

However, professional courtesy demanded he speak to him before he left, if only to thank him for taking over his classes. Now would be a good time; lunch was almost over and the Great Hall stood empty, save for a few staff with no afternoon classes. And Harry. He sighed. No, life wasn't fair.

Unable to do more than silently move his food from one side of the plate to the other (and a quick glance at Harry's almost full plate explained why he hadn't been chided for it), he'd tried to push his unruly disappointment to the back of his mind; while he knew the decision he'd made was the _right_ one, it didn't mean it completely satisfied. Well, in a way it did because he'd made it and was comfortable with the reasons, but it didn't because it was, at this point in his life, his second choice. While many times in the past he'd been forced to give up the things he desired, this one, in particular, stung because the aspirations of his professional life directly conflicted with the needs of his personal life. Not that this presented much of a dilemma. With no hesitation his personal life came first. But - damn it! - just once, he'd like a chance to satisfy _both_ sides of his life.

He had to admit, in a deep secret part of himself, that there was a certain sense of justification and gratification that Harry was upset on his behalf. Well, if Harry was studying under Septimius, as he'd indicated during the only real conversation they'd had over the last hour, then he would at least be spared telling Harry that one fundamental truth about life; Septimius would do it for him. It was always his first lesson to any new student in his 'no-nonsense-get-it-out-of-the-way' manner.

Well, sitting here was not getting the job done; even if his heart wasn't in it right now, he did have to teach this afternoon. Placing his napkin on the table, he'd just prepared to stand when Harry leaned over, asking quietly, "Aren't you going to class?"

Breaking the awkward silence plaguing them over their half-eaten meal, Severus replied, "In a few minutes. Septimius is leaving soon and I've not yet had a chance to speak to him." His lip curled. "Are you certain you want to study under him? He can be quite disagreeable."

"So you said. But as I mentioned before, Albus says he's the best and recommends him highly." He glanced up the table. "Do you mind if I tag along? Albus says Septimius wants to test me before he'll consider teaching me. I need to arrange a time for it."

Severus snorted. "You are welcome to accompany me, but I should warn you - the old man has some, ah, eccentricities with those he knows well that many find - offensive."

Harry smiled. "And he knows you well?"

He gave it some thought and, after assuring himself that no students remained in the room, leant over, saying quietly, "Septimius is a peculiar little man. One minute polite, the next he'll burn your ears with his insults and innuendo. Never steady that and he takes no guff from anyone, nor will he spare one the sharper edge of his tongue, although there's rarely any malice in it. If I have some lingering antipathy towards him, I hope I can be excused; I spent five grueling years under his direct tutelage while earning my mastery and barely avoided spending at least some of that time 'under' him as well." Now why had he brought that old water up?

At Harry's wide-eyed stare, he hastily added, "Although he asked several times, sometimes I think just to tease, he always took 'no' for an answer and I've never heard anything from anyone, male or female, to refute it."

Harry didn't reply, but visibly relaxed. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to alarm you, just warn you not to take it seriously should the old man make some of his infamous off-colour comments. In fact, replying in kind has its uses; Septimius is not one to respect false respect. If he annoys you, say so."

"Thanks. Any help is appreciated, although I'm not certain I can do that to a total stranger let alone a teacher, but I'll keep it in mind." He wiped his hands on his robes. "I don't know why I'm so fidgety about all this."

And Severus didn't know why he was nervous about Septimius, not known for his celibacy even now, teaching Harry, spending so much time alone with him. Was this what jealousy felt like? Stupid way to feel, all things considered. "It's understandable. Septimius has a - reputation - for speaking his mind and he's not always kind, in fact, I suspect he'll be recorded in the history books as 'Septimius the Curmudgeon'." He smiled when Harry chuckled. "However, we've had some professional dealings since my student days and, heaven help me, he likes me for some reason, which makes him even more inclined to - speak freely."

Thoughtfully, Harry stared unseeing at the empty tables. "Hmmm. Perhaps then, I'll wait until you're done. I'm not certain I'm ready right now for any more 'free speech'."

What Severus really wanted to do was lean over and kiss the odd melancholy off of Harry's face, but settled for leaning even closer to whisper, "A wise choice. I'll more than likely have to attend a staff meeting immediately following dinner, but we can talk afterwards." He found and squeezed Harry's hand under the table. "I'm sorry I've not been the best company, but I've been hard-pressed to find anything worth saying that could be uttered in front of a roomful of greedy ears."

Harry turned his head until their faces were a breath apart. "I know, and I understand. I'll see you at dinner?"

"Assuming I survive my first years this afternoon?" He chuckled. "Yes."

"Only an inch," Harry whispered, his eyes dropping to Severus' mouth. Raising them he stared, the hunger in his eyes answered by one of his own. He couldn't stay.

"More like a mile," he replied ruefully, releasing Harry's hand. Standing abruptly, he gave into the temptation and brushed his hand across Harry's shoulder as he resolutely walked to the other side of the table, keenly aware of Harry not staring at him as he moved away.

He arrived in time to hear Septimius tell Albus and Filius, "Owl me when you find out. It's entirely too delicious the irony of the whole thing." His eyes slid to Severus and winked. "Ah, my boy!" he called out. "Just the person I was waiting for. Good of you to tear yourself away from your new - husband." Yes, he was definitely glad Harry wasn't here.

"Provecto," he replied with a nod. "If I might..."

"Certainly, certainly." He turned back to the others. "Albus, Filius, I need to speak to Severus before I go. As always, a pleasure, and _Owl me_."

Standing from his chair, the top of the old man's head only came to Severus' chest. Looking down, all he could see were the liver spots dotting a shiny bald pate and forehead, encircled by a halo of wild, white hair. Until he turned his face up to him; man must have neck muscles of iron, Severus thought irreverently. Set under bushy brows and close to a short narrow nose, the familiar sapphire eyes shone bright with a mocking intelligence while the thin lipped mouth, which could be held in a prim line of biting censure, curled upwards in suppressed mirth oddly complementing the seamed aristocratic face.

In a good mood, then. Severus didn't know whether to be pleased or more wary. With the old man, it could fall either way.

"Walk with me," he said, placing his hand on Severus' arm.

Feeling like a courtier with a consort on his arm, Severus replied, "Very well, but I've not much..."

"Oh, don't be such a fussbudget, Severus. The wait will do them good. First you're here, then you're not, then you are; I'm teaching, I'm not teaching. You've started a good rhythm keeping them unbalanced; don't ruin it now by arriving on time." They started up the aisle. "Have to say, though, fine job you've done with such dismal raw materials, although I daresay you have a few well worth the effort. Which is why I wanted to speak to you." With a wily glance, he added, "I wanted to make certain you realised that a few of your Seventh Years have great potential. The remainder you can throw to whatever dogs suit your fancy."

Surprised, Severus' brows shot up. "Oh? I have three I've already pegged for apprenticeships starting this summer."

"Got the appropriations, did you?" He rubbed his chin with his fingers. "Pity, I was hoping to tap one of them in particular - a Mr. Merrywell, I believe."

Artemis? Over his dead body.

"Ah, I see you've already approached him. No matter, I don't poach." His face sly, he chortled, "Perhaps I can use your Harry for a bit, test his potions abilities while I train him for the other?"

Would this glare suffice, or did he need a stronger one?

Septimius chuckled. "No? Didn't think so. You never did share with the other boys, or with me for that matter. Which reminds me, I was wondering; are you certain you want to let a handsome fellow like myself anywhere near your beautiful boy? He certainly would make an appealing bottom."

Taken aback, Severus retorted without thinking, "Harry does _not_ bottom!" Instantly he wished he could recall it. Damn, would he never learn?

Brows raised in amusement, Septimius rejoined, "I always wondered which way you laid. Well, it's too late now," he sighed, shaking his head in mock resignation, "already taken and, unfortunately, not my cuppa; you're far too prickly for my tastes. I much prefer them younger and sweeter."

"That almost convinces me there's a god," Severus muttered.

His face more serious, Septimius tugged on his arm to draw his full attention. "With all due honour, Severus, I promise I'll behave myself with him." With a wink, he finished, "Or as much as I'm able."

_That_ definitely required the 'don't-even-think-about-it' glare.

"Oh, you're such an old woman, Severus. Don't worry, he's safe. Wouldn't know anymore what to do with so much lovely boy at one time in any event." Almost to the door to the corridor, Septimius half-turned, glancing back to the head table. "Which reminds me, it seems you lost your manners somewhere along the way; you've never introduced us. It's only proper, you know."

Counting to ten as it seemed his students were not the only ones Septimius wanted to keep off-balance, Severus sighed, resigned to the mischievous smile gracing his face. "I don't have time for this," he muttered, "but I'll go get..."

"No, no, don't bother _going_ there, just _call_ him. That's why you're bound. Saves on shoe leather." He tightened his grip on Severus' arm as if he might run away; it _was_ rather tempting.

All right, he'd humour the blighter and _then_ go get Harry, who was now avidly talking to Pince. Keeping his eyes fixed on his husband, he sent a picture of him walking over to join them. He bit back a shocked gasp when Harry's head came up and around to stare at him, his face puzzled. He frowned, then with a look of sudden understanding, Severus found his mind filled with a nondescript image which could only be described as 'yes'.

Septimius chuckled. "Quick learner."

Suspicious, Severus asked sharply, "What did you do?"

His face closed, Septimius replied, "Amazing what a little boost will do. He figured it out faster than I would have thought, although I did make it a bit obvious."

As Harry walked over cautiously but quickly, Septimius watched his progress, remarking, "I hear you may be changing jobs soon; pity Albus is not improving any and is too stubborn by half to fix the problem himself. I'll miss him."

"I am _not_ 'changing jobs'."

"Oh? Really? That's not what I heard, if I understood the castle correctly, but be that as it may, you would make a solid, if a bit cranky, headmaster."

With some heat, Severus said, "I am not...

"Now, now, Severus, don't be too hasty with your refutal; not everything's fallen into place yet."

Severus was spared his caustic reply with Harry's raised brow of inquiry. He was dead late to his class and even though Septimius thought this a good idea, he did not. Grateful for the interruption, he quickly made the requested introductions, his impatience oddly soothed by Harry's presence. Once the two men had shaken hands, he asked with some asperity, "Is there more you require, old man, or may I leave now?"

"By all means, _boy_, why are you just standing here? Shoo! You're late! Did you lose track of the time? Run along now - say hullo to the little reprobates for me - especially that Lance Veni. Regular little Death Eater that boy is - almost made me long for the bad old days."

Shaking his head, Severus made a rude noise as he stalked out of the Great Hall, thinking he must be having a truly horrid day if he could honestly say _that_ was one of the brighter parts of it.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

Watching the exchange, Harry began to understand why Severus was wound as tightly as a clock spring. The dynamics were interesting as one glared and the other baited. Did Septimius do this with everyone, or only those he liked? He wasn't certain he wanted to find out either way. Unable to tear his eyes from his husband's retreating back, Harry heard himself say, "That was truly wicked, you know."

The low chuckle in response didn't surprise him as much as own his words did. "He'll survive." Septimius turned to him. "I've already said my farewells - stayed around just so I could see the auld sod before I left - miss him fiercely, sometimes." He hooked his hand over Harry's arm. "Walk me to the front door; we need to set up a schedule."

Just like that? No comments? No discussion? No test? Shaking his head, Harry muttered, "Bloody amazing," to himself as they slowly made their way out of the Great Hall.

Almost to the corridor door, Septimius swore. "Damn it, left my cane at the table. Be a good boy and fetch it for me, will you?"

With surprising good humour, Harry trudged through the empty row of tables towards the head table, muttering all the way about old lazy wizards who couldn't even _Accio_ their own possessions, relying instead on young idiots, such as himse...

"Harry! Behind you!" Flitwick shouted in alarm.

Whirling, he dipped into his sleeve to pull his wand - it wasn't there! Looking up, he immediately saw the danger - a flashing dagger flew at him, end over end, obvious magic propelling it as it moved straight and true well past the point where it should have dropped and fallen had it been thrown by hand. Rusty habit made him drop into a place of concentration where time itself seemed to slow. Determined, he sighted the blade with his hand forward, palm up, placing his effort to stopping its momentum. Successful, man and blade stood still in a deadlock as it hovered, point first, a hair's breadth from skewering his palm.

Sweating, he tried banishing it, but it wouldn't budge. He soon found he couldn't change it, couldn't move, nor turn it; there was too much power behind it. Nonchalantly walking towards him, Septimius held it by the force of his will alone.

Damn it! The old man wasn't even trying. But he was relieved his own skill was sufficient to keep the knife from coming closer. When he finally reached him, Septimius calmly plucked the knife by the hilt out of the air, tucking it into a sheath he had hidden deep in his sleeve.

Eyes locked, master and student glared at one another for a moment, one with a raised brow, the other's breath heaving out in gasps. "You're strong, I grant you that, but the day you can turn the knife on _me_, is the day you will have earned your mastery." He called for his cane and handed Harry back his wand. "Palmed it. Always watch yourself, Mr. Potter. Awareness costs nothing; the price of sloppiness may be your life. Always question a fool's errand - even to me."

A test. It was only a test. "You wouldn't be related to a man with one eye, now would you?" Harry muttered, wiping his face on his sleeve as they started walking again.

"Who? Moody? Smart man, knows when to shut up. You could learn something from him as well." He slapped him lightly on the arse. "But I have something with one eye..."

Oh, good lord. Only Severus' timely warning kept him from jumping out of his skin. "In your dreams, maybe," he muttered without thinking.

He was almost accustomed to the old man's wheezy chuckles. "Can't reach much higher than that, boy. Now, show me how to get out of this place."

Greatly daring, Harry replied calmly, "What? Forget the way already?" and was rewarded by more wheezing.

Harry accompanied the professor to the front entrance, the walk slow, with frequent rests along the way. While there was little conversation, the silence was by no means oppressive and gave Harry the time to surreptitiously study him. Severus was right, he was a strange little man, by far the oldest he'd ever seen. Pale, his paper-thin skin looked buttery soft, as if he took care of it - an interesting affectation in one so old, but well in keeping with the richness of his perfectly tailored navy and gold alchemist's robes. Not a poor man by any means.

The wrinkled hands, with their short blunt fingers and manicured nails, gripped his arm with deceptive ease as he steadied himself. Harry itched to read him, to penetrate the air of savage urbanity surrounding him. More than anything, he wanted to see if the insides were as well-preserved as the outside.

At one of their stops, sitting on a bench under a portrait of Ephrant the Snake Charmer, Septimius reached out and summoned from under Harry's robes the pendant Severus had given him as a wedding present. Still attached to its chain, it morphed easily through the fabric of his robes to land in Septimius' outstretched palm. "Beautiful work," he murmured, turning it in the light, "but then again, Severus always did have exquisite taste."

Going still inside, Harry asked in a hoarse whisper, "How did you know...?"

Septimius chuckled. "I made the matrix for him." He magicked the pendant back where he'd found it, careful not to touch Harry. "He's very protective of you, isn't he?"

"He can be," Harry replied cautiously.

"Can't say I much blame him; however, I must make it clear that this course of study is not without risks. Serious risks."

"So is crossing a street in London during rush hour."

"Saucy boy. You know what I'm saying. Is this," he waved his hand at Harry's chest, "going to interfere?"

"You've spoken to Quiesta. Are the risks you speak of any more than the ones I take every day with me to work?"

"No, not really."

"Then it won't interfere."

"Are you certain? As I've already demonstrated, the tests to ensure mastery could kill you if you're not prepared."

Harry bit his tongue on the sharp retort hovering on its edge. He would not be goaded into an unfavourable response. Septimius studied his resolve a few moments before nodding and flicking his fingers as if shaking water off the ends. Harry thought it a very odd gesture until he realised it was a spell, wordless and deadly.

He could feel his limbs turning to stone. Literally.

A false calm, learned long ago, instantly replaced the first edge of panic. _"Analyze. Quickly, Potter. Damn it, use your head for something more than a hatrack."_ Mesmerised, he watched the magic creep up his arms as he furiously sought the _Schema_ changing his flesh to grey granite; if he didn't hurry, it would reach his vital organs soon. He couldn't find it, couldn't remember any like it. Almost out of time and desperate, he concentrated not on what he was becoming, but rather on what he had been. The reaction slowed. Yes, that should do it. With a painful wrench, inch by inch, he restored himself until everything felt normal again. Breathing deeply against a lingering ache in his joints, his hands shook with reaction.

Thoughtful eyes pinned him in place like a butterfly to a collector's display. "Hurts like a mother, doesn't it?" The implacable tone bore no sympathy, but Harry somehow knew he'd done all right when the old man remarked, "Reactions a bit slow, but I'd expected that; no matter, it's a place to start. The important thing is you survived. However inelegant, the end justified the means."

Could this day get any stranger? Or this man? Suddenly the future looked very interesting.

Without another word, Septimius rose and they continued on through the corridor, the cane making soft thucking noises with every slow step. When they reached the front door, it opened of its own accord. Septimius chuckled wickedly, glancing all around him. "Yes, yes, I know. Good riddance and all that."

Harry's mouth fell open. "Pardon, sir?"

"Would have thought Severus could have fixed your 'pixie-in-the-wandlight' reaction by now. 'Course, I suspect he's had other things more tempting to do lately. No matter, it's just one more thing to work on."

Harry opted to ignore his editorial comments - for now. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand."

"No, I suppose you don't. The castle is about as fond of me as it is of you right now, only my - history - with it goes back so far we've both forgot what started our argument in the first place."

Harry considered this extraordinary statement, his curiosity piqued, but he held his tongue; something told him he would eventually learn what Septimius meant - and how did he know about his troubles with it?

Septimius walked through the opening, Harry following. "It doesn't much like anyone who can - best - it," he muttered to himself, leaning heavily on his cane as he approached the first step. With solicitous care, Harry offered his arm again and between it and the cane, they eventually got the old man creaking down the front steps. "Thank you, my boy. These old joints get stiffer every year."

"I assume you've seen a healer about them?" Harry asked drolly.

Septimius peered at him sharply. "Not one such as yourself. My continuing health is - unique; not much any of them can do for me anymore. I know we've not spoken of payment, but if I can train you sufficiently to work around some - irregularities - and fix these blasted things, I'll consider us even."

"Want them in full working order, do you?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Damn right I do!" he replied, laughing. He tugged on Harry's robes, pulling him down to his knees so they could talk eye to eye. "Now, what's on your mind, eh?"

Harry looked away.

"Come now, boy, haven't bit anyone yet who didn't survive. Out with it."

"What did you mean when you told Severus to wait on his decision, that 'not everything's in place'?"

"Ah. I wondered if you'd caught that; you look half asleep when you're paying attention."

"The conversation was between you and Severus; I was just pretending not to listen. It's called 'being polite'."

"I see. Fortunately, I gave up manners before Albus was born. Found them a bit of a nuisance."

Why did that not surprise him?

"As to why I told Severus to wait? Because _you've_ not played your trump yet."

Huh? "Trump?"

Septimius sighed. "All right, I suppose it's not fair to start in the middle. Let's look at this a different way. What do _you_ want?" he asked him.

Startled, Harry was about to say 'nothing' when he realised the question wasn't rhetorical. He didn't know why he said it, but the words, "I just want him to be happy," came out before he really understood them.

The old man laughed lightly. "Too bad you want something over which _you_ have no control. Try again - a little narrower this time."

"I just want Severus to have a true choice. One only for himself and what's right for him and what _he_ wants, without coercion or manipulation."

"Better. So, what's preventing him from making a free choice?"

"I don't think it's me, nor any one person. It's the..." Harry hesitated. He'd think him crazy.

"Out with it, boy. It's not as improbable as you might think."

"All right. It's the castle. It - it wants Severus as headmaster and it's adamant..."

"Yes, it can be a bit of a bully sometimes; I suspect it doesn't know any better, really. Not exactly conversant in interpersonal relations is it, but what can one expect? No one ever just talks to it."

Harry smiled, thinking it odd to hear his own earlier thoughts spoken aloud. "...and because of its methods, Severus may be choosing a course he doesn't want to take."

Septimius eyed him knowingly. "And you want see the playing field levelled out, so to speak?" When Harry nodded, Septimius continued cryptically, "Quite a tall order, but fairly simple to accomplish as long as you remember that commitments go both ways. You've already _spoken_ the words you'll need to speak again and bear the means you'll need to share again to ensure success." He patted Harry on the cheek. "You're sufficiently motivated; I'm confident you'll figure it out."

"Me? Why me?"

"I'll wager you've been asking yourself that all you life, eh?"

"Well, yeah."

"Get any answers yet?"

Harry shook his head.

"Then why do you keep asking?" As Harry drew breath, Septimius held up a hand. "First lesson: life's not fair, get over it. Second lesson: sometimes that's just the way it is. Your energy is best spent calculating the 'how' of a thing; there is ample time afterwards to wonder 'why'." He started off, waving Harry back to the steps. "I'll be fine from here. Plan on Mondays; arrive at the wards in the morning, ten sharp. Severus or Albus can tell you where."

Standing stiffly, Harry nodded, although Septimius wouldn't see it as he moved away. "Monday morning, then," he called, turning to go back up the stairs, resisting the urge to look back. Once through the open door, it snicked closed behind him. Standing still, he took his time examining the castle surrounding him. He couldn't _feel_ anything from it except the normal sense of immense age one normally experienced while inside. It certainly didn't seem alive, even though he now knew it was.

However, Septimius had given him much to contemplate; he suspected every word counted and there'd been a hint of confidence that Harry could succeed if he could only figure out what the old man meant. Heartened, Harry decided to go to his thinking place, intending to do just that.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

Hours later (after he decided walking the hallways didn't soothe him as much it did Severus) Harry ambled back to their quarters; his thoughts awhirl, he was no closer to understanding Septimius' words now than he'd been earlier.

The astronomy tower had been freezing, the fierce wind whipping his robes around him, but by that virtue it had also been relatively quiet and unpopulated, leaving him ample opportunity to digest the remains of his small lunch as much as what Septimius had said. Eventually tiring of both cold ears and endless speculation, he'd found himself in the restricted section of the library; Madam Pince had been helpful, but he'd really longed for Hermione's assistance sifting through the mountain of information available on Hogwarts. However, that had proved impossible; a quick fire-call to her office determined 'Mrs. Granger Weasley' was off to the continent and was not expected back til tomorrow.

Bugger - he was on his own.

Dinner had been a quiet affair in the Great Hall; even the students had been subdued, their conversation low and closely huddled, as if they too sensed that Great Happenings were afoot. Adult conversation had also been minimal. Beyond a subtle withdrawal he'd sensed since returning from their honeymoon (as if there was a new invisible line defining their privacy) the staff had deliberately distanced themselves even further. And while he had no concerns for himself beyond a mild annoyance, the well-concealed hurt he could sense from Severus at this sudden isolation made him want to smack them.

Harry had twice tried breaking the silence, but such was its hold on the entire table, his quiet comments had sounded as if he'd shouted, "the hostess has a big arse," in a patch of silence at a noisy party. Finally giving it up, he concentrated instead on landscaping his magic potato mountain with small sprigs of broccoli. He knew his efforts were appreciated when a trail of currants (from Severus' untouched spotted dick) wended their way down the lumpy side in a twisty road. Of course, the hand resting comfortably on his leg under the table merely reinforced the notion.

As the last dish vanished from the table (including that of his masterpiece carelessly demolished by an errant napkin), Albus quietly announced the much anticipated heads of house meeting immediately following dinner (at which time he pointedly excluded Harry, despite Severus' growling protests). With a softly spoken apology and a swift press of Severus' hand to his own, he was soon alone, left to his own devices. Hence the short, frustrating walk and his subsequent return to their apartment.

He reset the wards after entering, wondering for the thousandth time how he could equitably resolve this whole bloody situation. He knew Severus intended to refuse the position, but - damn it! - that was not what his husband really _wanted_. Once again, Severus would be choosing his path for another. For him, and either way he lost; somehow this didn't sit right with Harry, didn't fulfill his basic need for fairness. Unless he solved Septimius' riddles soon, there was little he could do to alleviate the problem. He was _excluded_ and that, as much as his bitter helplessness, burned, too.

Feeling somewhat grungy, he decided a shower and a change of clothes might make him feel a bit less tense. Given Severus' decision, he cautiously approached the next space, half-expecting to be back in their old apartments, but no, he entered the rotunda - and gasped.

Dobby had obviously been busy.

True to his request, the house-elf had hung three magnificent tapestries to cover the bare walls. Each of the same width, but of increasing height, they blazed in the indirect lighting, their rich colours making the space almost homey and warm. Curious, Harry hastily made his way to the first of the three. His nose almost buried in the worn, ancient nap, he could see the finest details of the tiny figures in their flowing diorama. It took him a moment to determine what the scenes depicted: the last battle between the wizards and the house-elves, their eventual defeat, and the subjugation of the Accords of Riese. He made a mental note to ask Dobby to make sure _this_ one came with them when they left; he wanted to study it in greater detail.

The second tapestry was the story of Dumbledore's battle with Grindelwald. Vibrant, the colours shifted and shimmered as the events played out to their historical conclusion. The third one make him chuckle - he didn't look anything like _that_, did he? Although the rendition of Severus and Albus wasn't half-bad. But he had to admit, seeing his own efforts reduced to moving fabric was odd, to say the least. He thought Minerva might let him come back to see this one. The events of the final battle with Voldemort were so hazy in his memory, it would be interesting to see what everyone else had been about.

Looking around the rotunda, he realised he was actually going to miss the place, although it really was more suited to McGonagall's whims than to his and Severus', perhaps, simpler needs. He chuckled, thinking he would forego his bathing until they were back to wherever they wound up; it hadn't been all that long since the last shower, only this morning, and the thought of being caught in the all-together when they made the shift left a bit to be desired.

With this in mind, he decided, purely out of curiosity, to see what Dobby had done with his study; it would be interesting to see if he'd managed any improvements, not that he'd miss _that_ space at all. Halfway across the rotunda to his goal, he heard a plaintive mewling. Cally again. Eyes searching the space, he couldn't find her, though, and he stopped himself just in time from making a complete fool of himself by calling out to a deaf cat. He moved towards the centre and the fish tank to get a broader view when he noticed that the closer he got to it, the louder she yowled.

Stepping back from the fish tank, he could barely see her tail dangling down the back curve at the top. When he knocked on the glass, a pair of dainty white feet followed by her head peeped over. She tried another step, but started to slide and, with a squeak, she jumped back to where she'd been. If he squinted he could just see her shadow through the glass from below. "Silly chit. How did you ever get up there?" It must be at least eight feet tall, if not more. "This has got to be one for the records," he muttered. "You know, there _are_ easier ways to get fish. Begging would have topped _my_ list."

Cally had other ideas and, as he hesitated, she started howling up and down the scale.

"Ingrate," he muttered, her caterwaul, echoing off the walls and columns, overlapped to fill the space with a resounding, cacophonous cat chorus. He shook his head. "How one tiny, deaf cat can make so much bloody noise is beyond me. Give me minute to think about this, will you?"

How the hell was he supposed to get her down?

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

The meeting had gone, so far, more or less as he'd expected. Albus' normal improvisation ensured it went on far longer than necessary and the others responded with desultory deliberation that often wandered far from the original topic. Severus sighed. Just once, it would be so pleasant if Albus used an agenda. Nothing fancy, but a planned list of discussion, faithfully followed, would earn him more time at home and less in this sometimes uncomfortable company. One could almost say it might border on delightful.

Tonight though, there was a tension in the room he'd not felt since before the end of the war, usually when someone went missing; he briefly wondered if that concern had ever extended to himself. Somehow he doubted it. He supposed the worried anticipation was to be expected; however, if Minerva stared at him one more time with that almost hopeful gleam in her eyes when she thought he wasn't looking, he might just hex her into next month. _He_ at least liked to plan ahead.

His brooding was interrupted with Albus' simple question, "Well?" spoken into a heavy silence he'd not noticed (but suspected had stretched long enough, he would be embarrassed to know the duration).

As slowly as he dared, he looked around the group of expectant faces already assuming they knew how he would choose. He sighed inside and braced himself for their displeasure. Well, one of them might be happy, but he wasn't as certain of that now as he'd been before; maybe he'd misunderstood, or perhaps she'd changed her mind. No matter, it was hers now whether she wanted it, or not. "I have broached the subject with Harry, who is supportive of my taking the position." Yes, there was that gleam again; she almost looked happy. Not that he'd ever much pleased her before, he did admit to a hint of regret that he would, once again, disappoint. But no, this was the right course. "However, there _are_ a few insurmountable concerns, so it is with deep regret..."

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

Even afterwards, he was never very clear on how he made it to the top of the tank. One moment, he was at its base, eyeing Cally's hissing fear, the next he was standing on top of it, his bare feet almost as surprised as he at the warmth emanating from the glass.

As he bent to pick her up, Cally leaped, landing heavily but unharmed, several feet away on the stone floor below. "Ungrateful wretch," he murmured, shutting out her prim meowing as he tried to find his own safe way down.

A fluttering whisper, running from the soles of his feet to the back of his head, stopped him, the sensation foreign, yet familiar. He closed his eyes, concentrating; with sudden certainty, he realised he was standing in the castle's centrum. Warm and huge, the power running through him encompassed the heart of Hogwarts.

A perilous weight constrained him, pressing heavily. Images, ages old, passed before him, his own presence insignificant in the longer eye of its immense history. He was a mere speck in the flow of its time, it whispered, an annoying speck to be sure, one it was not content to leave be. The weight grew heavier, threatening to buckle him to his knees. A thick, disorienting fog filled the rotunda until he stood in a space of white nothingness, not knowing what was up nor down. He stilled, afraid to make a false move.

Why would the castle be doing this? Just this morning it had been trying to please him, why was it now trying to fight him? There was feeling of fear behind it. Was it possible he wasn't the insignificant speck it was trying to convince him he was?

As the fog tried to infiltrate his mind, making it almost impossible to think, the weight on his body increased. He must be going in the right direction for it to expend this much effort to stop him. Habit saved him as he fell into his healer's trance, shutting out all the outside distractions, his way mentally clear.

Septimius' words returned to him. The old man had somehow known the answer to a question Harry had not dared voice: how was he supposed to make a difference? He had the means? No, not him necessarily, but something he bore, something he'd already spoken. Was it possible? Did the answer lie in their bond? What did it contain of such importance? Love - promises - _commitment_.

Commitment - another word the old man had said - one going both ways. A commitment very similar to what the castle was demanding Severus make. But wouldn't that place Severus in the position of having to choose at some point between him and the castle? Was this what the castle feared? That Harry would convince Severus to choose _his_ interests over its own?

Feeling a bit foolish, he called out, "Is this the problem? You think I will stop him from serving? Bah! Little you know of him. _I don't own him._ But neither do you." Nor would it ever. "I would not have to convince him where his priorities lie. He already knows. I can't believe you chose him without knowing at least that much about him."

Silence greeted his question - not that he'd really expected a reply. The thing didn't talk, did it?

Was this what had happened to Albus over the years? Was this the basis of his eventual corruption? He'd subjugated himself and the vows he'd made, vows carrying a substantial weight of magic in themselves, to those of the castle? If so, Poppy had never stood a chance; she wasn't strong enough magically to prevent it - Albus had said as much when he talked of balance.

However, he was not Poppy. Could _he_ change the rules? Could he change the demands the castle made? Could he balance the power it wielded over them both?

The answer rushed into him with the certainly of the absolute. _Yes, he could._ How, he wasn't quite certain, but he knew he had to try. Never in his life had he ever been in a position to help Severus obtain something he wanted - no, if he were honest with himself, something Severus _needed_, almost as much as he needed Harry. He would be damned if Severus took another path yet again for the sake of another. For him. That way led to as much disaster as unconditionally surrendering to the castle's demands.

Well, as a starting point, he could make certain nothing was 'unconditional'. The castle had to know he wasn't going anywhere, that there were two of them with whom it had to contend, that he would not bend, nor compromise, if it wouldn't do the same in return. _A commitment which cut both ways._ His only hope was that they could reach an amicable agreement. He hated confrontations.

The presence around him tightened as if it reading his intent. Voice raised, he decided to try the friendly approach. "You know he wants this. The gods only know why." Well, actually he did, but that knowledge was unimportant for this negotiation. He needed first to establish that he was in an equal position to bargain. "And you want him. This I understand better; he will make the best headmaster you've ever had. But _we_ have a little problem. You and I, that is."

The surface beneath his feet grew almost unbearably hot. Annoyed, he gritted his teeth, reminding himself this was for Severus, and continued. "You're spoiled, you know that? Every headmaster has always let you do just as you pleased." He opened his arms and drew in his power in the same manner he did for a complicated healing, prepared to release it as slowly or as quickly as needed. "Well, I won't." He wrapped his defensive magic around him as much as a shield as a weapon. "We are not slaves; we set our own terms."

The fog thickened, its swirling depths a sibilant whisper, threatening his concentration. All right, perhaps he needed to take the not-so-friendly approach. He decided to test Septimius' advice, literally, and speak that which had already been spoken.

Raising his arms high above his head, Harry cried out, "Hear me well." Invoking their the bond, the formal vows, made less than a fortnight before, fell from his mouth unerringly with the same intent and import as the day he'd first uttered them. They were part of him, comprising the very definition of his soul now. At first they echoed dully into the white nothingness, and he despaired they would ever carry any real weight of their own, but midway, as he reached their heart, the centrum of the promises _they'd_ made to one another, the words gathered momentum, filling the white nothingness as single drops of water will eventually fill a bucket over time.

He could feel their bond wrapping around his magic, bolstering it against the increasing pressure from the castle as their vow rippled through its defenses.

"_Te apud constanter manebo, neglegens si magno mihi stetit._" Regardless of personal cost; protective, the deep magic within him rose to the surface, sparking painfully like fire across his skin.

With each word, each phrase, the bond's outward strength grew until he knew, with every fibre of his being, that it and their faith _together_ were more than the castle could ever muster against them alone. The bond's magic spread out from him, his mortal flesh too small to contain it anymore, until with the final words, "_Unus iam sumus,_" it reached beyond him to embrace the castle's magic, equal to equal, a token of cooperation, not subjugation.

Yet it fought him, blind to what he was offering. Perhaps it was time to point out the obvious. Defiantly, he called out, "These are _my_ vows, _my_ troth to him, _my_ mate, _my_ life. You want him to commit his life to you in the same manner he and I have committed our lives to each other? Are _you_ willing to make such a promise in return? To him? To _us_?"

With a whooshing protest, the room soon cleared, the fog gone. Score one for the Gryffindor.

"Didn't think so," he muttered, as the sheer force of his will, augmented, yet held in abeyance by their bond, radiated sheets of magic rising unchecked. The magic pressing on him increased; had he not been warded, he would have been crushed. Its resistance wearing, he began to question whether a compromise was even possible. Unwavering, though, he tried one more time. "I'm really trying to be patient here. Is it too much to ask that you play fair?" Then he played his trump card. "You know, he's going to say no unless you compromise. And before you get all pissy, that decision was _your_ doing, not mine. Your little take-over this morning cinched his resolve. So do you think we can at least talk about this?"

The castle rocked on its foundations.

He supposed that was as good an answer as any. Head held high as if addressing the heavens themselves, he shouted, "All right, we do this the Harry way, damn you. You want Severus? Well, that makes two of us; if you want him, you are going to have to go through _ME_ first." He threw his challenge into its heart. "Hear well _MY_ terms: I love my husband just as he is; you shall not to change him to suit your needs, nor what you perceive to be mine - you get him - and me - _together_ - as we come now and as we will become, growing _together_. Not by some false definition you have of what he, or I, or we should be. We are bound as one, I will _not_ tolerate you pulling that asunder!"

The castle immediately responded. Sparks few from the globe, swirling and flashing as they rose, winding around the bond's magic, tightening as a noose, trying to choke it out of existence. But instead of besting it, their bond gently absorbed the castle's magic, merged it within itself until the two magics became one, making them _together_ nearly invincible.

And yet it did not yield; he could feel its resistance still. Shaking his head, he pushed their immutable magic out to surround the heart of Hogwarts. "You will not meddle with him, or me, or our relationship - _ever_."

Deeper, farther, to the very foundation he pushed it. "And if you _EVER_ fuck with our bond again..." the walls wavered and glowed white-hot as if heated by the fires of hell "...I swear to the misbegotten gods who made you that I will personally raze you to bedrock until every last particle is consumed by my wrath."

Panting with the effort, he vowed, "_Hos te promitto._ This is _my_ promise to you." The castle shook and shuddered with his commitment. "Now? Are we understood? Do we _finally_ have an agreement?"

Reluctantly, but inevitably, the presence pressing down on him receded until all that remained was a feeling of respectful acquiescence. With no joy in his vanquishment, or its unequivocal surrender, Harry relented, pulling back his power until he was just another wizard standing on top of a huge glass globe in the centrum of a mouldy old Scottish castle. "It's about bloody time. I don't know who's more stubborn, you or me."

With a petulant shimmy, it groaned.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, quit your grousing. It's a good deal and you know it."

Far from up above him he heard a helium voice cry jubilantly, "You tell 'im, 'arry!" and looked up in time to see a tiny stone figure flashing out of sight.

Feeling a pleasant stirring in their bond, Harry laughed triumphantly, and with a muttered spell, jumped as light as a feather off the globe onto the stone floor below.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

"...so it is with deep regret, I must de..." Severus stopped, half-rising in alarm as the castle began to shake and shudder, sending a slew of gewgaws from Albus' desk and shelves rolling to the floor.

His disappointed frown morphing into a bemused smile, Albus' eyes glazed as if listening to someone far away. After a long while, with an derisive chuckle, he muttered, "Not _my_ problem. _You_ chose him, _you_ live with the consequences," even as he held up a hand, waving the others back into their seats.

Head cocked in a mirror image of Albus', Severus' face changed from regretful seriousness to one of supreme satisfaction as, with a low wicked laugh, he murmured smugly, "Hogwarts, may I introduce the Potter half of Snape."

With an almost petulant shake, the walls ceased to move. His sardonic smile reminiscent of a certain green-eyed man of their mutual acquaintance, Severus levelled glittering eyes on his mentor. "All right, Albus, I'll take that first lesson now..."

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

The room was just as dreary as he remembered, although the cheerily burning fire in the grate helped a bit. It appeared Dobby had been here also; the dark wood and glass cabinets were fully stocked and labeled in much the same order as they had been in his old study. A quick check revealed a few of Severus' more obscure potions as well; at least they would have them to hand instead of having to trudge all the way to the lab's storage room. Otherwise, the room stood empty; perhaps they could find something to suit tomorrow. There was certainly no point in doing anything else to it tonight.

He was almost out of the room when a small 'pop' stopped him in his tracks. Whirling around, wand drawn, he relaxed with a smile when he saw a new desk in the middle of the room. Half-round and dainty with a centre apron drawer and carved spindly legs, it fit neatly in the centre of the space, its front facing the entry to the room. As he turned in place, trying to find Dobby, a cherry red, leather desk chair, the kind one could roll around and tip back, materialised in the inner curve of the desk. A small wooden tambour with four drawers followed, topped by a faerie-light lamp, but there was still no sign of the house-elf.

He had to try it out. Sitting at the desk was lovely, the chair soft yet firm, the desk's smooth leather surface cool to the touch and perfect to write on for hours. Even Cally approved as she jumped nimbly to the top and sprawled across the left side, purring. Bent over, he explored the tambour, its contents complete with parchment and fine quills and ink as well as a silver fountain pen similar to the one Severus had bought in Hana.

Closing the last drawer, he stopped midway as strong magic flowed around him. Hogwarts magic. Straightening, he was about to shout out that he'd thought they'd made a bargain, when the oddest sensation tickled through him and he had to smile. Gleeful smugness was the only word for it; the castle was pleased with something and he couldn't decide what disturbed him more - that it had feelings, or that he could sense them. Regardless, he could only gape as the floor chuckled and the wall between him and the rotunda curved outward. Stretching and thickening, almost bubbling, large chunks pushed in and others pulled out until with a short shudder of completion it resembled nothing less than an ancient black tumbled stone wall one could still find sometimes in the mountains of Hana. A diffuse golden light filled the space, making soft shadows in the ridges of the rocks.

He gingerly touched several of the rough, pocked stones, with their spots of white and celadon lichen, finding them warm as if kissed by the late afternoon sun and moist as if fresh from a mountain rain; he almost expected to see a chameleon sunning itself. He'd no more envisioned the types of plants he would want for the little nooks and crannies when they appeared, growing rapidly. Dainty mountain and turnip ferns growing out of the living rock vied for space with tiny yellow and pink mountain orchids their thick tenacious roots clinging to the vertical faces until the entire wall bloomed, its scent fresh and green and _alive_.

He'd stopped looking for Dobby some time ago. He knew who was responsible and what it meant; this was as close to their _other_ home as he was going to get for quite a while. As placations went, it bordered on amazing: if this was the first day's accomplishment, what marvels would the intervening years bring?

He couldn't wait to find out.

Nor could he exactly dispute the castle's elation; after all, he'd felt much the same way when Severus had committed his life to _him_. But he had to wonder if this meant the castle would become an intimate part of their relationship. That was rather perturbing. He looked up to the ribbed ceiling with a jaundiced eye. "You bloody well better not peek," he muttered, swearing the thing was laughing at him. He made a mental note to ask Poppy tomorrow how she'd managed _that_ small detail.

Shaking himself out of his speculation, he made his way out of the room, thinking Severus should be home soon.

Home. Such a broad concept.

Standing in the rotunda, he watched the fish swimming in their globe as happy as fish ever get. Back and forth, darting into the rocks, under the leaves of the swaying water plants, nipping at their companions, their bright scales flashed different colours depending on where the light struck them, or how deep they dove, or how much shadow they hid under. Staring at them, he realised people weren't all that different. They occupied their own worlds, rarely bestirring themselves much beyond what they knew and controlled. Pity really, especially when one considered there was so much more out there than one little tank, but as long as they didn't see it, or feared it, how could they know what they were missing?

He tried to envision his life, stuck in the same place, treading the same worn routine day after day, year after year. How awful would that be? He shuddered, suddenly understanding what had happened to McGonagall over the years. The mechanisms she'd created during two wars to control her own destiny, to give it safe boundaries, had carried over into this time of deceptive peace. Sheltered by Hogwarts, she was stuck in a rut of her own making, forgetting how to live outside the rules, how to truly be a Gryffindor. He was also quite certain she wouldn't believe him if he told her.

He smiled - well, grinned actually, if his mischievous reflection in the globe was any indication. Thinking of her relationship with Severus, he suspected the next few years were going to be a bit unsettling for her, but, oh! she would feel so alive when his husband finally woke her out of her stupor. And wake her he would, as well as the others - shake their sensibilities more than likely. Severus needed them, needed their stability and diversity to keep his brooding nature from miring in the morass of his responsibilities.

A flash of bright colour drew his attention back to the fish. Cruising slowly, the smallest yellow tang hugged the sides, its scales magnified to impossible proportions whenever they pressed against the glass. It finally faced him, hovering as beady black eyes stared straight ahead; he could almost hear it sigh, if fish did such things. Ah, an aquatic maverick, wanting to see what was beyond? Reaching out to touch the tank, he'd thought it would flee, but instead it came closer until its mouth on the end of the ridiculously long snout made a round 'O' under his finger. He wanted to tell it to be patient; a being could only occupy one space at a time, so if one wanted to see many places, all one had to do was move oneself somewhere else, but he didn't pass that particular cruelty to a creature bound for life to this one tank, nor did he mention there were serious risks in swimming free.

He looked around him. He should heed his own advice. All things being relative, he supposed he got a better deal than the yellow tang. As this was just one place out of an infinite number of possibilities, he had to ask himself - what difference did it make where _their_ globe resided, as long as he and Severus were swimming in the same tank?

He could almost hear the snort when the image of two squids playfully chasing each other through the water crossed his mind's eye; he didn't turn when the thinker of such droll thoughts slipped strong arms around him from behind. Instead, he leant back into the loved body to give those arms more of him to hold. Sultry velvet whispered in his ear, "Bravo, my love. Well done."

"I could say the same," he replied, sending an image of his new wall garden, for which he got a gentle nip to his jaw. Amused, he asked, "So, what does all this make us?"

"Well loved."

Not bad. In fact, quite nice actually, although that _could_ be because a pair of familiar lips were moistly travelling ever so slowly down his neck while the hands wrapped around his waist slid down to hold his hips. Very nice indeed - and an invitation he would never refuse.

Not much later the rotunda stood empty as two joyous souls, engaged in more loving pursuits elsewhere, gave no thought whatsoever to the colourful fish playing contentedly, both oblivious in their own little worlds.

And the castle stood alone, guarding them all.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

TBC in Chapter Fifty : Epilogue : Twenty Years Later : Chapter Two : Hiding Under the Ninth Earth : The Sacred and the Profane


	50. Part III : Epilogue : First Sight

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Book 03 : **Epithalamium**

Part III : The Beginning of Forever  
_Chapter Fifty : Epilogue_  
**Chapter Two : Hiding Under the Ninth Earth : First Sight**

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_III-3. Thus the highest form of generalship is to balk the enemy's plans; the next best is to prevent the junction of the enemy's forces; the next in order is to attack the enemy's army in the field; and the worst policy of all is to besiege walled cities.  
Sun Tzu : "The Art of War"_

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

**12 February 2023 12:10 am**

_Bzzzz._

Severus swatted the air around his head.

_Bzzzz. Bzzzz._

In a twisting cloud, the bees swarmed around him; the tall dry grasses tangling his limbs made escape impossible. Trapped with nowhere to run, he dropped to the ground, throwing an arm protectively over his face.

_Bzzzz! Bzzzz! BZZZZ!_

The old beekeeper, his familiar voice muffled by a netted headgear, chuckled. "Persistent aren't they?"

"Go away," he muttered, snuggling his head deeper into the pillow.

Pillow?

_BZZZZ! Sting! BZZZZ! STING!_

Random shocks of lightning zapped his limbs.

"Time to get up," the beekeeper said, his voice fading as if moving away. "She won't give up until you do."

She?

Heavy eyes grudgingly opened. "Damn it."

_Sting! BZZZZ! BZZZZ! STING! STING!_

He rolled fully on his back, staring at the canopy above, his sleep-fogged brain finally recognizing the summons for what it was. "All right! All right! I'm coming!" He whispered the counterspell, half tempted to stay where he was.

A toe poked his shin. "Don'youdaregobacktosleep."

Smiling at the soft snore following the admonishment, he threw back the covers, shivering as the frigid air assaulted skin hot with sleep. Within moments, the only warmth remaining was Harry's dead weight anchoring his left side and the hand resting heavily on his other shoulder making a heated "V" across his chest. Sighing, he prepared to get up; Minerva would not be denied her audience for long.

Given the wide variety of 'creative' night time summons from his staff, all requiring the same thing - the forfeiture of his bed - he'd long ago devised an effective means of moving his spouse without disturbing him too much. Wandlessly levitating Harry enough to untangle them, he slid out, absently lowering him back to his former position as he donned heavy slippers and reached for an old nightshirt, throwing it on hurriedly. Next he grabbed the winter dressing gown beneath it on the horse.

Fumbling with the collar fastenings, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Albus, if you weren't already dead, I'd kill you myself." He pulled the ties forward. "What the hell were you thinking, teaching her that blasted spell?" He blinked. "And what was I thinking allowing her use it?"

"It's better than a _Loquarium_ in our bedchamber," Harry mumbled from under the covers, "and about the only thing that will wake you _this_ time of night." A sleepy grin appeared over the duvet. "Well, maybe there _are_ a few other things..."

Halfway through tying the belt, Severus paused, brow arched. "Cheeky boy," he growled, tugging the belt tightly before knotting it. Placing his hands and a knee on the bed, he stretched a bit and kissed Harry's forehead just peeking over the covers. "Go back to sleep. I shan't be long."

"Promises, promises," came the soft rejoinder already blurred by returning dreams.

_Bzzzz! BZZZZ! STING!_

Harry pulled Severus' pillow over his head, his muffled, "Ow. Must be important for her to start up again so soon," barely discernible over the resumed imposition in Severus' head.

He knew that; however, as he marched to the Rotunda, the knowledge didn't stop him from admiring Harry's rather cheery image of the Deputy Headmistress's Gryffindor red entrails festooning the upper hallways.

"Damn it, woman! I'm up! I'm up!" Facing the huge fish globe in the middle of the Rotunda with his back to the front door, he folded his arms across his chest, fingers tapping his bicep as he levelled his best 'this-had-better-be-good' glare at the irate face wavering within the water's depths. "What?" he snarled.

Without preamble, McGonagall barked, "Severus! _They're_ at it again!"

Who 'they' were did not require stating. "And this is _my_ problem, why?"

"They started over an hour ago and are almost to the school's side of the castle. This is getting out of hand; I'll never understand how you can allow them..."

"I believe the answer is blatantly obvious - even to you, Minerva. Unless, of course, you've decided that interrupting the late night mating rituals of two fully capable, _consenting_ adult wizards is something you want to take on in your spare time?"

Although, given that she already knew where they were and how long they'd been at it, one did have to wonder...

"You must put a stop to it. Now. Really, Severus! How you tolerate their behaviour, especially from your Slytherin Head of House is beyond me."

"Minerva, the number of things 'beyond you' is beyond frightening." He smiled evilly, savouring her sputtering; Albus had the right of it - baiting and irritating her was such a _soothing_ avocation. "Tolerance of _their_ behaviour? Now there's an interesting notion, considering what you and Sprout get into." He snorted. "Perhaps I should curtail _all_ my staff's more - personal - rituals as well? Hmmm?" Ah, that got her undivided attention. "And speaking of staff," he said slyly, "if I recall, Douglas is yours, not mine."

"And Moody is yours!" He smiled to himself, feeling one of _those_ moments approaching as she continued in a heedless rush, "As Head of Security, it's his responsibility to curb this type of illicit activity, but since he's one of the perpetrators, I'm thinking he's not going to drag himself home to sleep it off. You're going to have to do his job for him!"

Ah, it was always so satisfying. Chortling, he drawled, "Well, actually, he _will_ eventually escort Doug into bed and they _might_ even get some sleep..." what an interesting shade of crimson "...but I have no inclination to help them do so."

Ignoring her choked, "Severus Snape! That's not what I meant and you know it," he struggled to erase the last of the sleep from his thoughts. The eccentric antics of his resident night owls were, thank the gods, normally none of his concern; however, he had to acknowledge she might have a point. If they were oblivious as to where their sport had taken them...

As she draw breath for another argument, he interposed smoothly, "Very well, Minerva, I'll go talk to them - but in return, _you'll_ take morning report."

Keeping her off-balance also had its merits.

"Why on earth...?"

"If _you_ must rouse a mere headmaster from a pleasant slumber to deal with such trivial issues 'almost' on _your_ side of the castle because _you_ don't have the balls to do so yourself, then _you_ must cope with the consequences."

"Absolutely not!"

The prim line of her mouth irritated him. His voice suddenly sharp, he snapped, "It wasn't a request, Minerva." She remained silent, arms folded tightly across her chest; most likely she was tapping her foot on the floor. Enough of this. "Good night, Minerva. Let me know who wins." He pivoted to return to his rooms and a pliant Harry, his smirk hidden by the swing of his hair; there were so many things better he could be doing now that he was awake.

"Severus Snape! Where do you think...!"

His voice a low, dangerous purr, he half-faced her again. "Yes, my dear Deputy?"

It really was too delicious, the sour-lemon moue of surrender she wore. "Very well, _Headmaster_. _I'll_ take report. _You_ make them behave."

He chuckled, magnanimous in his victory. "While I've been known to achieve the impossible upon occasion, even I cannot 'make them behave'."

"You know what I mean," she huffed.

While it was tempting to ask her to spell it out for him so he could enjoy her stammering blushes, time was wasting, and then there was Harry...

He didn't deign to reply. Striding out of their quarters, he heard the tell-tale gurgle indicating she'd broken the connection. He spared a thought of thanks again to Ben for the invention; handy things, the _Loquariums_. Although their range was limited, they were certainly an easier and more dignified way to communicate with the staff and council than kneeling arse high on a hard hearth with one's head in the Floo fire. And more decorative as well. The fish certainly didn't seem to mind the occasional incorporeal visitor, as they could swim between the many tanks scattered throughout Hogwarts, although they did tend to scatter whenever Moody bellowed from the thing with a _Sonorus_ spell.

Out in the dungeon corridor, he decided to make a shortcut. "Take me to where the two blighters are," he quietly ordered the castle. Belatedly remembering Harry's constant reminders about how lonely it was, he added, "Please." The next step blurring, he found himself in an empty hallway lit bright with torches. Readying his wand, he knew he would probably need it. Given where he stood, he realised Minerva was right; they were far too close to the students for this sort of nonsense.

Blast them to hell! Why did they pick tonight, when Harry had been so upset and restless, to play their silly game? Why, for that matter, did they feel the need to play it in the first place? He snorted, eyes swiftly tracking the quiet corridor. Why did anyone do anything they did?

Where were they? This little contest of Wizarding Hide and Seek grew old quickly, their chosen method of determining who was going to top when they were both feeling 'toppy' needed a new playbook. He sighed. Far be it from him to curtail their private amusements - even he knew the eroticism of a good fight, but when it potentially endangered the students...?

While the thought of Moody and Doug doing anything remotely intimate was rather nauseating to contemplate, Severus had always been pleased his two friends had someone with whom they could be intimate in the first place. When one considered their disparate pasts, their similarities were astounding. Both loners and more than a bit rough around the edges - one by circumstance, one for survival - one could not hope for better companions in almost any situation. Powerful and intelligent - yet street smart, cunning, sneaky, barbed-tongued, and loyal to a fault, they were, in short, quintessentially Slytherin. That they were together seemed almost inevitable once they'd got past the tail-sniffing stage of their first meeting.

Which probably explained their deep-seated need to compete with one another and why he was having such a difficult time finding them.

Ah, finally, a furtive movement to his left. He whirled, wand raised, as Moody stepped out of the shadows behind a column, the stinging hex he cast blindly barely discernible as it flew towards him. Stepping frantically to the side, he shouted, "Damn it, Mad Eye! It's me! Stop this inst..."

An "Oh, shit!" was the last thing he heard as Doug's answering hex slammed into his back, toppling him to the floor.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

_The station platform filled with Muggles going home for the day... The triumph on Colch's face as he forced Harry to do his bidding... Looking for the chart... The sound of the train coming around the bend, the noise of people moving towards the edge of the platform in anticipation... The worry on Sheila's face... Sheila unconscious on the floor... Draco holding a little girl's arm... A walk down a mouldy corridor... The sinking feeling in his gut... The headlights of the train coming closer... A woman on the bed... A vision of 'The Pet' handing Severus a Gobbelworm... Draco's triumphant face as he launched the child in front of the train... A desperate effort within a dying woman... The new patient, dead... Frozen in place, the sickening sound and sight he could not escape as the train hit the child head on, her lifeless body flying and disappearing beneath its steel inevitability... The last rattle of air out of a woman he had to let die... Jed's mistimed heroics... Draco's malicious smile and mocking laughter, the screaming of the crowd, the screech of the brakes of the train, the stench of his own vomit lying foul at his feet... A bored Draco standing in the doorway to a private room... Jed flying across the hall... Draco shooting off the first hex and then melting into the crowd, his involvement unnoticed by any but Harry and a few Muggles standing next to him... A desiccated corpse... The healing ball spewing out his magic... The cry "Wizard" going up as a new panic set into the crowd... A baby wailing in a steel cot... HE got away... Blocking a killing curse... Holding Draco against the wall... Jed healing him... Hexes and curses flying... Kissing a baby's forehead... Drinking tea in the office... Shacklebolt questioning him, his eyes narrowed... The beach in Hana... Shacklebolt and the Aurors securing the clinic... He ran away... And he ran away... Again he ran away..._

The nightmare broke abruptly. "Oh gods! Stop! Just stop!" Harry cried, sitting bolt upright in the bed as the whirling afterimages played before his mind's eye. Heart pounding, he held his head in his hands. "What the fuck have I done?" The sweat from his face and hair slicking his fingers, Harry blinked against the fading images, letting the darkness and solitude of his bedchamber gradually transition him from his vivid torment to inescapable reality.

He was hot. Hot from his dream's exertions, hot from the shame radiating through his body and a stomach suddenly tight and queasy from guilty memories and sickening afterimages. Throwing off the sheets sticking to his soaked skin, the room's chill a welcome relief, he staggered to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before the scant contents of his stomach heaved into the bowl. Later, the rim's cold porcelain against his cheek cooled the lingering heat in his face but not those things upsetting his stomach in the first place.

Fairly certain he wouldn't spew again, he tried standing. Wobbling from the stiffness in his knees, he wrinkled his nose against his stench. What a mess; he needed to bathe before his husband returned. After rinsing his mouth with Severus' cleansing potion, he started the water in the shower and stepped into the steamed glass enclosure.

A few minutes later, Harry knew the scalding water mercilessly pounding his skin would be insufficient to wash away his sins. Rinsing the soap, he decided it was probably for the best that Severus hadn't been there when he'd awakened from his nightmare. If he didn't fully understand it himself, how could he possibly hope to convey it to another? That he'd managed to keep the entirety from Severus so far was a bloody miracle.

Lowering the water's pressure, he let it flow smoothly over him, its warmth easing muscles he'd not known he'd strained. Like a vulture over a fresh kill, his mind endlessly circled, landing every now and again to feast at the carcass of his memories before launching back in expectant flight when his will chased it away. Pick. He was in the train station last night. Pick. He was at the hospital ten years in the past. Pick. He was in the clinic yesterday afternoon. Pick. Pick. Pick.

"Stop it! Just stop it!" he shouted, banging the side of his fist into the tiled wall. Shaking, he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, kneading the thick pad of flesh near the rising bruise on the side of his hand.

The pain focussed him more than it probably should, but he didn't heal it, needing instead the concentration it brought. So much hidden, so much he still needed to reveal. So many connections melding into a horrific miasma of deceit and shame as his past finally caught up to his present. As he rubbed himself dry, the towel catching some torn skin he'd not noticed before, he found its rough texture somehow fitting, a civilised sackcloth to atone for his transgressions.

Chilled, he wrapped a nearby bathrobe around him and sat on the toilet, chuffing mirthlessly at the irony of it all. Pulling at the threads of the towel still clutched in his hand, he began to denude its low pile. Perhaps if he'd told Severus about what had happened at the hospital ten years ago, then maybe the incident today at the clinic, which had forced him to evade Shacklebolt's questions, would never have happened.

One string became two, became more, until he had two narrow tracks of bare cloth running the width of the towel.

If he'd just got rid of Draco when he had the chance, then maybe the little girl would still be alive. Or if not Draco, did it then follow it might have been someone else? And would Severus' opinions, one way or the other, have caught the real culprits and saved the real victims? As more bare tracks crossed the first ones he'd made, forming a ladder, he wondered if he'd done the right thing all those years ago. And what about yesterday? Had he finally crossed the fine line between light and dark, good and bad, human and monster?

He tilted his head. From this angle, his barren ladder stretching across his thighs became something else entirely - more like tracks now; perhaps sometimes all it took was changing one's perspective to change one's perception. If he hadn't taken the train, if he'd just Apparated home as he always did, then he might never have been involved in the battle, but neither would everything have come full circle. Nor would he have needed to escape Shacklebolt's unwelcome presence a second time. If he hadn't hidden his actions yesterday afternoon, then Kingsley's feeble, 'we must stop meeting like this,' would not have made his face burn with remembered shame. But then again, if he hadn't met with Kingsley just that afternoon, he wouldn't have been allowed to sneak away from the station's chaos with only the promise to visit the Auror at the Ministry this afternoon for a debriefing.

As each loop disappeared beneath the surface, it left a tiny hole and a strip of bare cloth and an ever-growing string wrapped tightly around the tip of his finger until it turned purple. The spaces between the rungs of his ladder slowly became barren patches as he worried more threads out of the middle trying to keep the pattern even.

He really didn't want to go; apart from the inevitable disappointment and loss of trust, Kingsley would most probably want to use Veritaserum and, when that failed, _Legilimency_. He shuddered. Perhaps he could put Kingsley off another day or two. The three seemingly separate events were incontrovertibly connected and, until he had a chance to talk to Severus, Harry wanted them kept secret.

His hands stilled. Severus. Severus deserved to hear it first, directly from him, not only because he owed him at least that consideration, but because the roots of the problems he faced were embedded in Severus' history as well as his own. While he knew they would have to eventually give Shacklebolt _something_, the decision as to what form it should take and how much should be revealed needed to be made together.

Which meant he would have to tell Severus _everything_, even what had happened a decade ago, which he found himself reluctant to do. It wasn't that he feared Severus' reaction to _what_ had happened, nor the timeliness of his confession; they both understood there were some things one just didn't talk about, even if it meant facing one's demons alone.

He almost tore the fragile fabric of the towel where he'd exposed it. Twisting it in his hands, he began pacing the small confines of the bathroom.

No, he dreaded Severus' inevitable distress as to _why_ he'd been silent. Telling him would only dredge up an old hurt, one long placed firmly behind them; the last thing he wanted was to reopen old wounds, for he knew Severus would blame himself for Harry's secrecy. And unfortunately, he would be half-right. While it was true that only Harry could find his own absolution, the need for it had come at a time when Severus' single-minded concentration on his plans for Hogwarts had resulted in a neglect of their marriage and a fading of their bond that Harry alone could not surmount. When even the slightest interruption to his busy schedule provoked heated argument, Harry had surrendered to Severus' temper and withdrawn. By the time they'd fixed _their_ difficulties, Harry had been so lost in their renewed relationship, he'd dropped his other concerns as too petty to mention as he'd already managed to find his own equilibrium by himself.

He shook his head in disgust. Well, he had until yesterday. And where did one begin to explain _that_? What loose end should he grab first to unravel the Devil's Snare in his head? What possible means could he use to explain that all the hard-won lessons from before had come to naught when it came to _his_ choices?

Leaning his hands on the counter, he stared hard into his own eyes in the mirror, willing to silence the small voice whispering the self-doubts born in a small cupboard and nurtured by echoing, hateful words. Running deep, he'd never quite evicted it, and now it mockingly repeated the question he feared the most, the one that curled rancid in the pit of his stomach: would Severus still love him when he found out what he'd done?

He pushed off and turned from his own fearful reflection. Perching on the counter, the towel taut between his hands, he resolutely rejected its message. No! No more! That part of his life had always been false; why should it carry any weight now? He would not, could not listen to anything other than the saner voice of the present. If nothing else, he _must_ trust in Severus and all they'd built over the years. He would bare his heart and rely on the love and understanding he'd always received from his mate, through a bond that ultimately had never failed them.

He looked at his hand where he'd injured it, the pain now dulled to a low throbbing ache. Healer heal thyself, he thought ruefully, casting the spells to do just that. Flexing his fingers afterwards, he realised that his decisions were made. The real ones, the ones that would hopefully bring him - and perhaps even Severus - closure. The thought of resolving it, regardless of how convoluted and painful it might become, finally brought a small amount of comfort. He threw the towel into the corner, leaving with it his doubts for the moment and, with a lighter heart, went back to bed.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

He was fairly certain everything was intact, although his robe was a mess and his head hurt.

As he rapidly regained full consciousness, a state of which the two men duelling quietly a few feet away were thankfully ignorant, Severus took a moment to study them, something he realised he'd not done in a while. They looked well, he concluded; almost happy - if either one of them were capable of such a thing - especially Douglas. Certainly a far cry from the sorry scarecrow Harry had rescued off the street nearly fourteen years ago.

While Moody was short and stocky, Doug was taller and wiry, but that wasn't what drew anyone's immediate, if sometimes revolted, attention. It was their eyes - or lack thereof to be more precise. In a world where such things could be replaced in one form or another, as with Moody's magical orb, that Doug chose to wear an eye patch was noteworthy and, to the average wizard, inexplicable. However, Severus knew he had his reasons and the patch was far from mundane; after a while one hardly noticed it.

Best damned Potions master he'd ever had, though, and inducted as the Slytherin Head of House a little over a year ago. Already he'd noticed a change in the morale of the Slytherins; they stood taller, performed better in classes, were more like their former arrogant selves before Voldemort's ascendancy than the pale shadows that popular opinion had left them after the Dark Lord's demise. As Moody often said, 'Doug takes no prisoners,' and given the new respect the Slytherins were exhibiting - and receiving - no guff from them, either.

Moody, on the other hand, had been reluctant to come out of retirement; however, when the school had split into two halves - one for children, one for adults - and the village of Hogsmeade became as much a part of the Environs of Hogwarts as the families and students living within the castle, Moody was the only one Severus considered sufficiently trustworthy to oversee its security. It had taken much persuasion and a hefty salary to convince him, but it had been more than worth it. In the fourteen years since he'd taken the position, order and peace had been wrought, albeit a bit unconventionally, out of utter chaos.

Of course, with the both of them, one had to tolerate a few idiosyncrasies.

Recalling himself and his 'mission', he couldn't believe they were still duelling, warily circling each other inside a proper ward this time. He vaguely recalled an argument over his head when they'd stopped long enough to ascertain 'the auld sod would live'. He supposed he should be grateful they'd decided to stay near him to ensure his condition continued that way rather than moving their romp elsewhere. That Minerva again was right about their sport being a poor example to Doug's young charges left a sour taste in his mouth, or perhaps it was just the lingering after-effects of the fire hex with which Doug had felled him.

Stupid thing, that; he was getting too complacent of late.

The sudden silence following a triumphant shout was unnerving and he wasn't certain he should look or not; there was no telling _what_ they were doing now and some things, especially their odd mating rituals, were perhaps best left unseen. However, curiosity got the better of him and, as he sat up and turned his head in their direction, he saw Moody dissipating the ward while Doug slowly got to his feet from his knees. At least they were still dressed. Seeing him awake, they both hobbled over to him.

"You all right there, Severus?" Doug asked, giving him a hand up.

He dusted off his abused dressing gown, examining the rents and still-smoking scorch mark lining the back when he pulled the hem around to look; yes, it was definitely a goner. He bit back a chuckle and settled for a stern, "For someone caught in the cross-fire, I'll survive."

"Yeh should'na been there, lad," Moody said with asperity.

That did it! 'Lad' indeed! Just exactly who was in charge here? "No! _You_ should not have been here," Severus retorted icily. "In case it's escaped your randy attention, you're on the border between the two sides. What if I had been a child? Or one of the pregnant wives?"

"Ah, about that..." Doug began, his down-turned face reddening.

"I do _not_ want to hear your paltry excuses," he stated harshly, his best 'headmaster-cutting-a-student-down-to-size' glare firmly in place. "Suffice it to say, you're _both_ on report. It will stop. Now. No more."

Moody's face fell. "We were only playing..."

"I'm sure you thought you were, but by anyone else's definitions...?" He held up a hand. "Gentlemen, I am the last person standing, in what I assure you is a very long line, who desires to curtail or judge your private affairs; however, if you wish to continue pursuing your conjugal privileges in the public corridors, you _will_ devise some means to prevent this from _ever_ happening again - both in its range and its ability to harm others."

"But..."

"I expect to see your plan, along with all the appropriate spells and wards, on my desk by the end of next week. Until I've approved it, I suggest you flip a Galleon should this - need - arise in the near future. And in the meantime, you will _both_ see to all Gryffindor and Hufflepuff detentions this quarter and you _will_ be nice. Am I understood?"

"Severus! That's plain cruel."

"Am I clear, or do I need to spell it out in words of one syllable or less?"

"Yes - I mean, no, headmaster. We got it." Doug said with a wry smile.

Severus nodded curtly at Moody's sullen, "All right."

"Good. Now that's settled, I only have one other question." This time the smile was harder to hide.

"Yes, sir?"

"Who won?"

Moody winked his good eye and laughed heartily as he tugged his lover's arm, turning them around. With a playful slap to Doug's arse, they headed off, presumably to their quarters to wrap it up.

Severus shook his head watching their progress down the hall, arguing again if Moody's gesticulating hands and Doug's stuttering protests were any indication. With a whispered, "Take them home," he smiled as they disappeared into thin air. If their plans were insufficient, he had a few ideas of his own to facilitate the safety of their nocturnal escapades. Their roles vital to the well-being and defence of the castle and its myriad denizens, he considered the potential risks a small price to pay if it kept them happy and whole. Of course, their friendship had nothing to do with his motivation at all.

Walking the corridor in the opposite direction, he whispered, "Take me home, too." The world blurred between one step and the next even as his hand automatically reached for the latch to their door.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

Snuggling into the pillow he held tightly, Harry was almost asleep when the snick of the door's latch woke him. The faint scent of burnt wool reached him seconds before a candle lit; in its dim light he could just make out Severus gingerly removing his dressing gown.

"You were gone quite some time. Problem?" Harry asked, blinking sleepily in the dim light.

"Somewhat. Doug and Moody were at _it_ again. Minerva took exception. I talked to them..." he chuckled wickedly, taking a fresh robe out of the wardrobe, "...the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor detentions should be interesting the next few weeks."

Yawning, Harry replied, "Severus, that's plain cruel."

"That's what Moody said..." Severus laid the new robe across the horse next to his side of the bed "...although I think he was referring to my suggestion of how they next use a Galleon."

"Not to them! To the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs."

A flick of his wand and the singed dressing gown was just a memory. Shivering, Severus climbed under the covers Harry held up for him and turned on his side, revelling in the heat under the blankets. "I told them to be nice." His head propped on one hand, Severus slid his other slowly across Harry's stomach.

Harry's skin stippled under the sure touch wending its way to his waist. "Right. After what Moody did to Malfoy? And Crabbe? And Veni?" With Severus' snort puffing against his chest, he hastily added, "Not that they didn't each deserve it."

Warm lips ghosted across his skin as Severus settled himself firmly against Harry's side, the hand at his waist sliding to the small of his back. "Seems to me your recitation of Moody's reprimands is limited solely to the Slytherin house; however, I'll have Minerva remind them both that Transfigurations are not considered 'proper punitive measures'. Pity, though." He nuzzled Harry's chest. "Will that be sufficient?"

His tongue laved a soft nipple to hardness. "Ah - barely adequate."

"Hmmm. Good." Teeth worried the small nub before his lips wrapped around it, suckling softly.

Harry threw his head back on the pillow, willing his uncooperative flesh to respond. It felt so good, this soft seduction, but the lingering stress of the day and his subsequent thoughts made his body's ardour sluggish. He didn't know who he was trying to distract when he asked, "So, who won?"

"I have no idea," Severus hedged, his mouth moving up to nip Harry's throat, the steady pulse at its base beating against his tongue. Too steady for someone who should be aroused by Severus' attentions to his most sensitive places.

"I'll wager Doug did, then; Moody won last time and they seem to trade off fairly evenly. Personally, I think they already know who's going to top before they ever get started; for them it's the contest that's so appealing, although I fail to see the eroticism of a stinging hex."

No, Harry wasn't ready to play yet, not if he was continuing their discussion instead of silencing him properly. "I could demonstrate, if you'd like," Severus breathed, licking his ear.

"I think I'll pass."

"Spoilsport," Severus grumbled good naturedly, worrying his lobe. "As to why they do it, I suspect you're right, but I'll see your wager; Moody was particularly fierce this evening."

Harry eyed him suspiciously; his spouse probably already knew the outcome, but 'losing' a bet with him was never unpleasant. Besides, unless he accompanied them all the way back to their quarters, there was always the odd chance he could win - and that would be pleasant as well. "All right. Usual stakes?"

"Agreed. Winner's choice."

"Hmmm. Sounds fine to me," Harry said, yawning as he snuggled into Severus' side.

Severus slowly carded his fingers through Harry's hair. "You're damp. Problem?" he asked, echoing Harry's earlier query.

"Nightmare. Earlier. While you were gone." When Severus pulled back, Harry murmured, "Lost a patient yesterday, too. It wasn't pretty. And there were some other things that happened as well."

"Ah, I see." Severus pulled Harry closer, inhaling deeply; he smelled so fresh. It had been so terrible, he'd needed to bathe? "You took a shower?"

"Yeah." Harry ducked his head. "I was a mess afterwards."

"Want to talk about it?" The words had no more left his mouth, than he wanted to snatch them back.

Expecting an emphatic denial, he was surprised when Harry answered him mildly, "Yes, but later. Maybe tomorrow?" He idly played with the hairs on Severus' chest. "Too much happened. I'm still too fuzzy about everything; I need time to think first - set it straight in my own mind." He reached over and pecked Severus' cheek. "I'm sorry."

Severus tried to chase that mouth and missed before Harry hid his face again. "That bad?"

"Worse." He drew a stuttering breath. "It's - complicated."

Sensing Harry's continuing hesitancy, Severus unashamedly trolled the bond; a frisson of alarm ran down his back as he realised Harry was still partially blocking him. He now knew for certain what he would find, or not, if he lowered the hand running soft circles on Harry's stomach and chest. Severus suppressed a sigh. Harry's infrequent impotence had always been a dead give-away to his mental state. Given his current lack of response, obviously he was still as overwhelmed now as he'd been when they'd first gone to bed.

"Come here," Severus whispered, coaxing with soft touches and firm tugs until Harry lay fully on top of him. As he'd thought, his husband wasn't aroused. When Harry made a noise of embarrassment and tried to shift away, he held him fast. "It's all right; I know you're upset and I'll wait til you're ready." Harry stopped struggling, his whole body going limp. Absorbing his weight with a heavy sigh, Severus kissed his temple. "What? You didn't think I'd already guessed you'd been less than forthcoming?"

"I'd thought - never mind."

"Hush. It'll be fine," he whispered, running his fingertips smoothly around Harry's back and sides. One of his favourite positions when Harry came home tense, he usually enjoyed the feel of him gradually relaxing, sometimes muscle by muscle, all the while making the most delicious contented growls. But not tonight. It was late and, at the very least, Harry should be falling asleep, not growing more rigid, his heart racing.

Severus wrapped his arms around him, silently offering comfort.

Harry lifted his head off Severus' shoulder, his eyes stark in the candlelight. "It won't go away. Make it stop," he whimpered. "Please, Severus. Help me forget, even for just a moment."

The despair in Harry's plea frightened him as nothing had in a very long time. Tightening his arms, he rolled them over until he lay on top, his body covering Harry's their full length. Holding himself off him, he whispered, "_Te apud constanter manebo. Semper te amabo,_" and dipped his head to kiss him, again and again, while opening their bond as fully as Harry would allow him, giving him every ounce of love he possessed to stave the shadowed fear and horror he could feel coursing through him.

Murmuring half-formed endearments, his lips and hands wandered wherever Harry seemed to want them as Severus made his own bid to ease his spouse's desperation. When Harry started to respond, he gave him more. Employing the skills gained from their years of loving, Severus almost willed Harry's body to join his in ecstasy and eventually coaxed them to a quiet release. In the moment when Harry arched against him, a helpless noise escaping him, Severus knew he'd only joined him by virtue of their bond, his pleasure a pale shadow of Severus' own.

Worry gnawed him, stealing some of the contentment he usually found afterwards. This was more than 'just a bad day'. In fact the whole thing put him to mind of the few times Harry had panicked whenever he couldn't control his abilities. The desperation and the fear all spoke of Harry's wavering insecurity about himself and his illogical concerns about who and what he was. And whether he, Severus, would love him anyway.

Slowly - he must approach this cautiously, but still - he had to know. Waiting until Harry relaxed against him, he nuzzled the top of his head, his hands sliding idly along his arm and back. "Better?"

Harry shuddered. Severus' touch, the feel of his body next to him warmed a heart cooling with renewed dread. "Much."

"You seem a bit - distracted. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine, love." Guilt washed over him, but now was not the time to talk; _that_ needed the clear light of day. Trying to lighten the mood, Harry asked the first thing that came to mind. "So, how many is that?"

Severus sighed; such artful redirection into one of their familiar but rarely used rituals - like asking about 'The Book' earlier - was just another signal that Harry was deeply upset - he wouldn't have asked otherwise. So, giving him what comfort he would take right now, he obliged him as he settled his head deeper in the pillow. "Mmmm. I reckon tonight makes it," he closed his eyes in concentration, "47,685 remaining for me and 46,189 for you." He chuckled at Harry's indignant huff. "I think we're ahead of schedule."

"Are you certain? I'm thinking that both of my less than stellar performances tonight don't count as more than a half together."

"You were fine." Severus kissed his forehead. "It was a whole - both times."

"Maybe, but I still say it's only a half when you did all the work."

"Ah. Perhaps, but one must consider the afterglow. Since you normally fall asleep right afterwards, I think it should count more."

"All right, I can buy that. Or maybe it was a whole because I got half of yours and your half was much better..."

Severus stopped his distracting chatter with a kiss, sweet and mellow. Tangling them further with arms and legs until he felt Harry melt against him, he breathed a mental sigh of relief that his mate was truly relaxing. Lips parting softly, he whispered, "Hush. I won't push, so you needn't fill the silence." He ghosted his lips over Harry's brow and cheeks. "All right?"

Harry snuggled deeper, the rapid beat of his heart against Severus' ribs slowing to near somnolence. With a tiny yawn, he murmured, "That sounds lovely," and shortly thereafter, he surrendered to sleep.

Listening to Harry's even breathing, Severus held him close, wishing he could take whatever was plaguing him and throw it to the four winds, never to come between them again. Harry was usually so open to him this unexpected closure hurt, but he also knew Harry only did so when the disturbance was overwhelming. And given that he always told him in the end, Severus could only patiently wait for him to overcome his own reticence to do so.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

**12 February 2023**

Cassidy was at it again, his plump hand reaching out to steal the last cruller on Dooney's plate. A well aimed hex later, the young Slytherin was sucking his fingers looking wildly about him as he sought the source of the stinging hex robbing him of his prize.

"You're evil, you know that?" Harry asked, grinning.

Smirking behind his raised paper at the head table, Severus replied, "Cassidy's laziness in magic is exceeded only by his gluttony. Sneaky thief needs to lose weight; he's nigh on as large as your cousin ever was and just as pleasant. I'll speak to Douglas about it later this morning. It's one thing to have appetites, quite another to get sloppy about it."

"Speaking of Douglas, I see our lovebirds are missing."

Severus sniffed reflectively. "Moody must have won, then: Doug always makes it to breakfast when he wins."

"Pay up," Harry chortled as the two wizards in question came limping into the room, Moody hobbling more than normal.

"Maybe he put his leg on in a hurry," Severus countered, eyeing them both as they assumed their seats. Then Doug winced and squirmed in his seat. "Ha! The wager's mine," he exclaimed quietly, holding out his hand.

"Nuh-uh," Harry retorted watching Moody grimace.

"Mmph. Draw then. Pity, I had such plans for you," he murmured, turning the page. "It's no wonder they're late. Must have been up trading places most of the night."

Returning to the sports page, Harry chuckled, waggling his brows. "Wrestling, more than likely. Makes you wonder just how much stamina Moody had when he was younger."

Severus threw him a sharp gaze. "Mr. Potter! Kindly refrain from such revolting images, at least until after breakfast."

Harry eyed Severus' customary black pudding with a jaundiced eye. "You're a fine one to talk about disgusting..."

Patently ignoring him, Severus returned to the paper. Watching the students a moment through the hole he'd enchanted to move with the ads so he could keep a surreptitious eye on them, he then resumed reading the story, **_Muggles Attacked at Charing Cross_**, continued from the front page of the Prophet. The story credited the attack to 'unknown renegades' but went on to say that the Muggles had cried "Wizards!" during the fray and that "an unidentified victim had fallen under the train in the melee." A mystery man had saved the day.

_"Had a bit of a fuss in the underground coming home."_ Indeed. This was far more serious than Harry had led him to believe, and more in keeping with his 'difficulties' last night, but he didn't think this was all of it. Patience, he just needed patience.

"Looks like the Cannons don't stand a chance to win the Quidditch World Cup."

He glanced sharply at Harry's inane comment, knowing it was purposefully stated to distract him from the article in front of him. He drew breath to say so when he felt a tickle on his right hand resting on his cup. Looking down, he observed a tiny brown mouse no longer than two finger joints climbing on his knuckles. Raising it almost to eye level, its tiny pink nose wiggling and snuffling, he said not unkindly, "I see we have another thief this morning. Go steal your master's crumbs."

The mouse minced to the tips of his fingers and, leaning as far off his hand as possible, daintily licked a tiny speck off his upper lip just under his nose. Severus' snort blew its soft sleek fur about ears so delicate one could see the veins in them.

"Alexander, you're very fortunate Saganth isn't here," he breathed softly. With a twist of his wand, the unperturbed mouse floated through the air to land neatly on Doug's head. As many times as Severus had seen it, he still found it fascinating to watch the tiny creature crawl down the side of the Slytherin's head, cling to the top of his ear as he turned about to walk the tightrope of his master's eye-patch string, only to disappear behind the patch into the empty socket. A few moments later, a pink nose and incredibly long whiskers poked _through_ the façade of Doug's patch. Lounging half in, half out, he began to wash his paws, his bright black eyes taking in the rest of the table with keen interest.

"It still gives me the willies to see Alex do that," Harry said with a light shudder. "As many times as I've examined the socket, I still don't understand how the damned thing stays so clean."

"It's called magic, Harry," Severus said wryly, hiding his smile at Harry's sheepish grin. Damn, it still made his toes curl when he did that.

He turned to _The London Rag_, appalled at the number of stories about the 'wizard rumours' vying for equal space with a series of horrid long-lens photos of King William with his latest escort, and a woman who'd evidently given birth to alien vampire triplets; the alien extraction was probably pure fabrication, but the escort was obviously a smokescreen as the bachelor king only slept with the wizard bodyguard Arthur had assigned him years ago.

The coverage of the incident at Charing Cross was remarkably similar to the Prophet's in detail, although 'terrorists' with some new kind of 'laser' weapons seemed to be the official verdict. He was willing to wager Arthur and his teams of Unspeakables hadn't slept much last night.

The editorials concerning 'these mysterious wizards' and how 'if they exist, they should be registered like autos and dogs' made him uneasy as did a story about a Muggle man found dead two doors down from Harry's clinic - cause of death unreleased, but muggers suspected. Two pages later there was a side story about a faith healer in Surrey two days before, curing a man who claimed to be damaged by a neighbour's curse; it appeared Harry's identity in both name and status as a wizard had been kept secret, for which Severus was grateful, if a bit surprised.

Finished with the articles, he put the paper down and stared unseeing at the door at the back of the Great Hall. Irritation warred with relief that no one had as yet made the connection between the grainy Muggle photo of Harry in Charing Cross with the faith healer a few miles away. In any event, it had been too close, and Severus began to understand some of Harry's upset over the incident.

These assaults and veiled references to 'wizards', however yellow-rag they might be, were occurring too frequently for them to be mere accidents of happenstance, and Severus would wager every Knut he had that Lucius was behind them. But why? What possible purpose would riling the Muggles serve?

With regret, Severus knew he needed to 'see' the incidents to start understanding them. Not just a verbal account, but a visual recollection. With deep bitterness at the injustice, he knew he would have to start with Harry, who'd been involved in at least two of the incursions; maybe more, if his speculations were correct. But how to do so without upsetting his spouse further? Deciding he must proceed with the same delicacy as - Alexander, he summoned a quill, circled the articles and passed it to Harry with raised brows.

Scanning them, Harry flushed, then paled, his frown telling a story all its own. "The papers exaggerate; there were only eight wizards," he said with a forced lightness, "not twelve and when the Aurors arrived they scattered..." he paused, his voice trailing off to a murmur, "...or so I was told." He eyes suddenly far away, he whispered tightly, "Draco was there, though. He pushed the little girl in front of the train." He closed his eyes. "I really don't remember much, but..." His damp lashes were dark smudges on paper-white cheeks. "It was awful. The screaming, the metal screech of the wheels on the tracks, and..." his hands clenched the tablecloth "...I'll never forget her face - his face..." a muscle bunched in his jaw "...I swear, I wanted to kill him - should have..."

Severus folded his fingers firmly over the whitened knuckles threatening to tear the heavy damask, stopping the flow of words. Two seats down Moody stared, his good eye begging the question; with a minute nod of his head towards the staff room door, he told Moody to meet him there. Turning to Minerva on his other side, her curious face lined with worry, Severus made the same motions as with Moody. She placed her napkin on her plate and quietly left the table.

His two most trusted seneschals on their way, he turned back to his husband. Harry might have been sitting next to him, but he wasn't really there. Severus leant close and tightened his hand on the icy one beneath it, saying softly, "Harry? Time to go."

Harry opened his eyes, blinking, his blank gaze that of a man coming out of a trance. He pulled his hand away. "Pardon?" Looking around at the half empty room, he flushed before murmuring, "Sorry. Is it time already?"

Severus forced a chuckle. "It is for us, I'm thinking. Let's go to my office; I've asked Minerva and Moody to join us."

Harry glanced at the paper on the table and blanched. "Oh. Well. Yes. All right."

Moody and Minerva awaited them in the staff room. In silence they traversed the corridors, eventually arriving at the public entrance to the headmaster's office where Severus murmured the password, "Detention."

While the spiralling stairs with its guardian gargoyle might be the same, their destination was not. They stepped off the stair into a large square alcove which boasted several comfortable chairs for people to wait, the plain stone of the walls relieved by four portraits of previous headmasters that Severus didn't trust or like a whit but was forbidden to remove. Heavy and ornately carved, a pair of cleverly set, cornered doors opened of their own accord as they approached and, as they closed behind them with a solid _thunk_, Harry heard a derisive raspberry from one of the portraits banished to the alcove. From the sound of it, he would guess it was most likely Phineas' porcine ancestress, Portia Black the Termagant.

"How Albus ever tolerated that bitch is beyond me," Minerva grumbled.

Severus chuckled wickedly, heading to the right towards an informal seating area surrounding a fireplace in the corner opposite the door. "If I recall, he hung her in the supply closet with Boris and fixed their frames so they couldn't leave them. I heard it got quite noisome in there."

Half-listening to their banter, Harry followed them. He liked the new headmaster's office much better than the old one. Like Severus himself, it was more professional, austere in its simplicity - no jumbled clutter, no distracting Albus-toys lying about, no dusty tomes lining the walls, and in a break with tradition, no desk. And it had corners. Harry liked them especially for they were distinctly different than their rounder apartments and personal workspaces; a subtle yet unmistakable Severus statement, gleaned from their Hana friends, that this was the workplace, the other home.

The alcove entered the office from one of the corners; Harry always thought of it as the bottom of a square turned on a point like a diamond. Capped with a high vaulted ceiling, the spacious room beyond had four distinct areas of varying privacy and intimacy, the most public being the three semi-circular conference tables forming a clover-like arrangement which dominated the centre. When not in use for the various meetings he held, Severus used the middle one as a place to do paperwork, which Dobby stored at the end of every day in a hidden Wizarding closet to the right of the entry doors.

On the left side was an opening to their ramp, but only he and Severus knew about it; to everyone else it looked like a rough stone wall covered with a brilliantly coloured tapestry depicting the building of Hogwarts. Where Dobby had unearthed it, he hadn't a clue. Beyond that, tucked in the left corner, stood a smaller duplicate of the _Loquarium_ in their Rotunda. Behind it were two windows, one on each wall, the seat cushions of which were well used; this was the most private place in Severus' office, where quiet words could be spoken away from the prying eyes and ears of the portraits lining the walls. He often lounged there to read when Severus worked late.

As they rounded the tables, Harry stopped for a moment at the deep-set corner windows in the right corner and admired the puffy white clouds floating in a winter blue sky; the sunlight from them and the others across the room made the whole space feel light and airy. By long habit, he gathered a tea service and cups from the sideboards set along the walls under the glazing and assembled them on a wooden tray, which he carried over to the fireplace.

Severus and the others were already seated in their customary places: Severus and Minerva opposite each other near the fire, Moody next to Minerva. After placing the tray on the low table set in the centre of the grouping, Harry took the last seat next to Severus, usually occupied by Ginny Longbottom, the Headmistress of the Adult school. When Kahealani attended the Heads of Staff meetings in her role as 'Lady of the House', a fifth chair - now absent - was added in between to complete the circle.

Out of an inner pocket of his dark russet robe, Severus retrieved the morning papers he'd had at breakfast. He handed one to Moody, the other to Minerva with a terse, "Read the circled articles of both papers." When they were fully engaged, Severus reached over and grasped Harry's hand lying on the arm of the chair.

Harry couldn't meet Severus' searching gaze, didn't dare see the concern in his dark eyes if he were to keep his composure, for Severus obviously wanted to discuss the events in the newspapers, which he wasn't sure he was ready to do yet. Not that he really had a choice, nor could he delay any longer.

While he'd often witnessed Severus in action at work, he did not often interact with him; in fact, he actively avoided it. Accustomed to his husband's more intimate regard, to have the headmaster's concentrated yet impersonal attention focussed on him usually proved quite disconcerting. However, Severus' warm hand covering his own imparted a strong sense of comfort and support as Severus endeavoured to be both loving spouse and stern headmaster at the same time.

So far it seemed to be working.

While they waited, he fastened his attention on the magical flames dancing in the open corner. At least this brought happier memories. It wasn't a 'proper' fireplace, having no walls and no flue, but the hours he and Severus had spent 'building' the open raised circle with the castle had been fun, filled with laughter and burnt fingers as they tested different types of fire and protective wards. On either side of the open flames, stout wooden cabinets with glass doors were recessed into the stone. Inside its wizarding space were all of Albus' gewgaws and mechanical toys, along with some of Severus' more sensitive instruments.

A light squeeze to his hand warned him, bringing him back to harsh reality. Minerva finished first; as Moody hmph'd and mmm'd his way through the Muggle paper, she set about readying the tea, handing Moody his cup just as he finished the last page.

"Well, this is all interesting, but what's it to do with us?" he asked, slurping his tea.

Severus grimaced before replying, "Ordinarily I would say 'nothing', except that this is the third such altercation in as many months and," he held up his free hand when Moody opened his mouth to interrupt, "it appears that Harry - as well a Malfoy - are caught in the middle of it."

Minerva stared at their hands. "Ah - now it begins to make sense. What Harry said at the table this morning, that is. You were at the station?"

With an effort, Harry met her steady gaze. "Yes, I was there. And I'm the faith healer in Surrey the paper mentioned."

"Care to tell us about it?" Moody asked, fixing both eyes on him.

No, he really didn't, but here they were. As always Moody made Harry feel black inside, although for once he deserved it. Minerva's posture was neutral, but the flat line of her mouth spoke volumes about her disapproval of Moody's methods.

He shrugged; he might as well get the easy one out of the way. "The incident in Surrey was two days ago. There's not much to tell. That particular hospital has no wizarding side, but does have a few Muggle staff who have wizarding friends and family who know enough to call me if there's a suspected problem. I don't go often, but the rest of the staff knows me on sight and thinks I'm either a charlatan, or a saint depending on the outcome and generally leave me alone. I've no reason to disabuse them of the notion as the disguise suits my purpose."

"Sounds risky to me," Moody huffed.

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "No more than anything else I do." He immediately regretted the flippancy when Severus hissed in a breath. He sent an apology even as he said, "Anyway, that day someone had used an _Exussum_ curse on a Muggle man. Moderate burns, insides a mess, of course. Took me about four hours to set him to rights; the Ministry saw to his and the staff's memories, but I think they missed a nurse who saw me heal him and heard his accusations as well before he was wiped. I'm assuming she was the source of the story in the paper."

Brow crinkled in thought, Minerva observed, "That photograph of you in the other article, even as indistinct as it appears, is most unfortunate. The possibility now exists for someone to make a connection between the two events - and you."

"I suppose so; I'm still processing it." He chewed on his lower lip, thinking of the ramifications. "While it won't stop me from practising at Bartie's or any of the other hospitals, I don't think I can go to the Muggle sides as much anymore; they'll just have to lower the wards and admit Muggles to the wizarding sections if they want me to work with them in the future."

Then the rest of it hit him. With a voice filled with regret, he continued, "Damn, I'll have to close the London office as well." Or hide it, which would defeat its purpose as a public clinic. And given what had happened yesterday, it was no longer a safe haven, nor would he be able to face the memories the place was now sure to bring him. The knowledge left a deep ache in his heart; he'd worked so hard to build it into a working concern.

However, he couldn't resent the almost palpable relief coming from his spouse, a relief he didn't show, his face relaxed in its normal austerity when Harry dared glance at him. While he'd said nothing and never would, Harry knew he'd been ever more concerned with his daily trips into London, sometimes even going as far as concocting the most transparent of excuses for Harry to stay at Hogwarts. Yes, Severus would be most pleased if he had to close the clinic.

Minerva made sympathetic noises while Moody chewed his lip in consternation. When the silence stretched, Moody harrumphed impatiently. "And the station?"

A queasiness passed through Harry's gut. Stalling, he took a sip of his tea, wincing as it settled like an acidic weight in his stomach. "Ah, I was waiting for the train when..."

"Why a train? Where were yeh going?" Moody asked leaning forward in his chair.

A good question, but the interruption annoyed him. "Sometimes, when I need to think, I take a train. Yesterday was a - bad day..." he glanced significantly at Severus, hoping he understood the omission and was heartened by the understanding squeeze to his hand "...I lost a patient at the clinic and I needed to be alone for a while to sort things out. I never have any particular destination in mind as I know I can Apparate home from wherever I disembark." He paused, gathering his scattered thoughts. Moody gestured for him to continue.

"I was waiting for the next train - to Brighton, I think. It was very crowded with all the Muggle commuters going home for the day. The train was slowing as it neared the platform when by the oddest chance I saw Malfoy standing..."

"Which one?"

Harry checked his immediate, if somewhat acerbic retort; this was just the way Moody handled things. However... "Please don't interrupt me again, Alastor," he said stiffly. "This is hard enough as it is."

Moody muttered an apology.

Harry drew a deep breath and held it, letting it go on a gusty sigh. "I saw Draco standing still near the edge of the platform a few yards from me. There was a little girl near him." _He'd been holding her arm._ "All the other people standing close by started moving to intercept the train." A cold sweat broke on his forehead.

Severus tightened his hand. "Take it your time, Harry. We're not in any rush," he said soothingly, the comfort of his presence lending him the courage to continue.

Right. Hoarsely, he went on, "A few feet before the train drew even with Draco, he..." _The train's headlights were coming closer. Draco had seen him and flashed a triumphant grin as he launched the child in front of it._ There wasn't enough air in the room. "He - he - threw her - in front of the train - down on the tracks." His lungs laboured to get enough breath. "She never even screamed," he whispered, "there wasn't enough time - before..." _He could still hear the sickening sound as the train hit her head on, her lifeless body disappearing beneath it. Could still hear the screech of the brakes, the screams of the crowd. Could still see Draco's malicious smile, hear his mocking laughter._ He swallowed hard against his rising gorge.

"Dear gods," he vaguely heard Minerva whisper.

"I don't remember much after that," he continued, determined to finish the account; he would not break in front of them. His voice grew stronger as he recounted the rest of it. "Draco cast the first hex and then all hell broke loose. Someone cried 'Wizard' and the crowd went mad, running every which way; I think some of the injuries were from the panic rather than the hexes and curses. I did what I could to protect the Muggles around me, but it was eight to one and I couldn't be everywhere. The Aurors and the Ministry arrived, when I couldn't say, but when it was over, I told them all I could and then Apparated home." As an afterthought, he added, "I'm supposed to see Shacklebolt this afternoon for a debriefing."

Silence greeted the end of his tale. Sometime during his account, Severus had taken his hand within his own; the feelings emanating from him through their bond expressed the fierce tenderness he would never admit in any company but his own. Harry sent back his gratitude and love and, as he leaned heavily into Severus' unspoken, unshakeable support, he wondered how he'd ever thought he could go this alone. More than anything, he wanted to take the warmth and comfort he knew he would always find in Severus' arms.

However, he also knew all that would have to wait. Harry sat back stiffly in his chair, bracing himself for the inevitable questions. Moody was the first to break the quiet.

"Did yeh identify anyone?" When Harry shook his head, he asked incredulously, "Yeh didn't know any of them?"

This had been Shacklebolt's concern as well. He'd told Harry that the wizards had dispersed immediately after the Aurors had arrived; Harry was the only one who might be able to identify them. "I don't know. I really don't remember much. It's all a blur; you know what it's like in battle."

"Hmmm, yeah," Moody remarked, frowning. "'Course as an aid to recall, Veritaserum is usu..."

"No!" he cried in guilty panic. At their startled expressions, he temporised, "No, I'm sorry, Veritaserum won't help; it doesn't work on me."

"Poppycock!" Moody growled. "Yeh just don't..."

Minerva interrupted smoothly. "No, Alastor. It's true; Harry has proved - resistive - to its influence in the past. As his Head of House, I was there, so was Severus; Albus was elated with the results when he tested him."

"Too bad." Moody looked again to Harry. "Sorry, lad."

Harry nodded what absolution he could muster.

Her head tilted in inquiry, Minerva asked abruptly, "How did you know there were eight wizards and not nine or seven or a dozen as the paper reported?"

Harry debated answering for a moment, but knew it for a valid question; he had to trust they would keep it to themselves. "Septimius had me study with Mr. Ollivander. Every wand has a different _Schema_; I can _see_ them and judge their strength, which is dependent on the magic of the people who wield them."

Moody sat back with a "Hmph." Even Severus looked startled.

"And you counted eight distinct wands, therefore eight wizards?" Minerva asked with wonder.

"Yes, it's almost an automatic reflex now to notice such things. But that doesn't count Malfoy's; he left immediately after he cast the first hex."

"Can you determine the gender of the wand's owner?" Severus asked, his fascination clear.

Harry hesitated. "No, I cannot," he finally said, but sent Severus a "Yes."

Severus returned his understanding. Harry didn't much like talking about his _Schematamagus_ abilities to anyone; Minerva and Moody knew enough about them to take his answer at face value, but he would not overtly lie to Severus.

Moody poured himself another cup of tea. Eyeing the dark liquid, he said, "Seems to be the wrong kinda drink for such a discussion, but no matter." He took a sip and grimaced. "I see where we're going with this, Severus, and given the other information we've received about Malfoy the Elder and his movements over the past few years, I would say he's finally setting his plan in motion. Bit less subtle than I expected, but maybe he's getting impatient."

"Or maybe this is a red herring to draw our attention away from what he's really planning," Minerva speculated.

"Perhaps," Severus said with regret. "Regardless, I think the assault at the station was only the first salvo of his campaign." When he received nods from the other two, he added, "So, we're agreed, then? Whether a direct attack or a clever feint, it's war."

"You said it yourself last night - it can't end any other way," Harry said sadly.

How many years had they discussed this very eventuality? How many hours of study had they both devoted to this moment? Harry hazarded a glance at Severus, appalled at the fresh lines bracketing his mouth and eyes. Would he lose Severus as well? The mere thought chilled him, an icy tendril of dread threading its way to the very heart of his soul. Severus turned his head; implacable dark eyes locked with his and for a moment the room around them disappeared as the bond flared to life, boldly reminding them of their solid foundations, the inner strengths built slowly over their years together, reinforced by their boundless love and commitment.

"The quiet times are over?" Harry whispered only for Severus.

"So it would seem," he replied just as quietly.

Lowering his eyes, Severus reluctantly broke the connection, but Harry didn't mind; there would be time later for a proper, more private communion. He half-listened to them debate the issues further, retreating into a private shell where he didn't have to think at all. As Harry's presence was unnecessary to the discussion, he concentrated more on the warm pulse in Severus' hand than any words he might be uttering. Staring into the dancing flames, time slipped away as the three continued their sometimes heated discussion. Their reactions and judgments just as Severus had predicted, Minerva's vocal scepticism and cold, practical wait-and-see attitude contrasted sharply to Moody's quiet introspection which demanded swift and decisive action. He marvelled at the way Severus played them off one another to gain his own goals.

However, an indeterminate time later, Severus' brisk voice accompanied by a hard squeeze to his hand brought Harry out of his reverie as Severus began issuing his orders. "Alastor, call a meeting of the Order for next weekend. We need to assess the situation further and start refining our plans. We _must_ be prepared to respond, with force if necessary, to stop this before it escalates farther. Unlike Albus, I do _not_ believe the best of my fellow wizards; I refuse to wage a protracted war against another supposed 'Dark Lord' if we can head him off."

Harry looked between them. "I've been studying the genesis of the war with Voldemort and I believe one of the reasons it was so prolonged was because we were ill-prepared to fight at the onset of his atrocities and were suffering from what the Muggles call the 'ostrich in the sand' syndrome. I hate to suggest it, but have you given any thought to resurrecting Dumbledore's Army for the older students? Perhaps, if we are prepared _this_ time, throughout the generations, we can keep it short."

"Surely, it's not that bad yet!" Minerva exclaimed, her head drawn back in shock.

Harry snorted derisively. "The only reason you say that is because there have been few Wizarding casualties. As long as Lucius keeps it to the Muggles, no one complains. Except the Muggles. I don't remember what general said it, but you can't win a war fought on two fronts. We cannot hope to prevail against both Lucius and the Muggles in a conflict and I, for one, think this is what Lucius is counting on. A war with the Muggles who, need I remind you, outnumber us greatly, would drain our resources so much he could just waltz in and take over, with little to no fuss and no indictment if he can keep his involvement secret." He finished fiercely, "All hail our saviour, Lucius Malfoy!"

Moody nodded, smiling brightly. "There's the lad! Yeh have the right of it. He intends to divide us." He winked and added, "What other bright ideas have yeh?"

Before Harry could reply, Albus spoke up from one of the usually empty frames over the fire. "If I may offer some suggestions?"

Severus looked up and acknowledged their silent observer with a chuckle. "Certainly, Albus. When have we _ever_ been able to keep you quiet?"

Albus cleared his throat, his eyes twinkling over his spectacles. "Perhaps Arthur should approach the Muggle Prime Minister and open a - discussion. In the meantime, perhaps you could lure Ron Weasley away from his chess board and interest him in a much broader 'game'. With his Auror training and that strategic brilliance of his, I'm quite certain he would bring a unique perspective to your plans, some of which could be released to the Muggles. Perhaps then you can convince them to join us, clandestinely one could hope, to fight Lucius together. There is benefit to both and I think you could strike a bargain with them."

Sceptical, Minerva asked, "What do we have that they could possibly want other than our magic? I would not agree that this is a good idea. I'm afraid that if we make any offers to them, we're setting ourselves up for eventual slavery."

Severus and Harry locked gazes again, an inner debate raging as Harry urged him to tell them. Capitulating, Severus nodded and sighed. "You're right, Minerva. They could easily capture our interests if we let them; as Harry remarked, there are too many of them and not enough of us. And you're right, Harry, we do have the means to convince them and a very strong coin with which to bargain. I just hate giving it to them."

Harry commiserated, "I know; I'm not thrilled either, but what other choice do we have?"

"What?" Moody asked with asperity.

"You both know that Harry and I, with Artemis' assistance, have been trying to create a series of potions to aid _Sanos_ healers. About five years ago, quite by happenstance, one of those potions proved effective in curing Baldion's Syndrome. After Harry taught the techniques, selected healers have been able to cure it for years, but only with _Sanos_ magic and only amongst ourselves. We found a way to do it without risking them."

"How is it no one knows of this?" Minerva asked with disbelief.

Harry shook his head and responded quietly, "I first learned it by accident during my mastery and refined it when Albus was sick. It was he who suggested I tell no one of the ability, but I shared it with Carlotta and Septimius; before long there were several of us who could do it. Given the reactions of those we cured, we all decided to require a binding vow of secrecy with those wizards and witches we healed. When one of our patients died trying to break our _geas_ to tell a relative who was equally ill, we made the difficult decision to withhold any treatment from the Muggles, for we could not reliably bind them. I've often regretted that decision, especially with the children, but I also know that had we not made it, we would have been overwhelmed; a dead healer cures no one."

However, that had not stopped him - nor his peers, for that matter - from assuaging their guilt over the stricture by occasionally sneaking into the Muggle children's wards in the dead of night while everyone slept. It certainly became much easier and safer to do so once one or two of their hospitals gained a reputation for 'miracle' remissions.

He refocussed on the conversation when Severus said, "Neither Lucius nor the Muggles know of our healers' abilities or of the potion. Baldion's runs rampant now world-wide as their blighted environment destroys their bodies; I say we hold onto the knowledge as a final bargaining chip in case we cannot convince them by any other means. Albus, your other suggestions had occurred to me as well, but not about Ron. He would be an excellent addition."

Severus turned to his second-in-command. "Minerva, make a list of all the students who have strong talents in Charms, Transfigurations, and Defence. Work with Ginny to see who might be eligible among the adults. Let's see if we can find some likely candidates."

"Very well, Severus. I'll have Remus organise it. Merlin, I wish this wasn't necessary."

"No more sorry than I am, lass." Merlin chimed in from his frame.

"Alastor, I also want you to circulate amongst the residents, talk to the old biddies and see what gossip you can ferret from them; I'm certain it will be the talk of the house. And who knows, with their outside circles of equally gossipy friends, they may even be able to guess at some of the assailants at the station."

"Damn inconvenient time for Kahea' to be gone," Moody muttered.

"True, but be that as it may, she's not here and you are in charge of the Environs while she's absent." He stared at him hard. "And be nice. I do _not_ want a repeat of the last time you 'questioned' them."

Moody sulked, but given his dressing down of last night, Severus knew he would comply.

"Don't forget the house-elves," Albus remarked, yawning.

"Good idea. I'll speak to Dobby this coming week. As Elder it would be his responsibility to decide how much they should be involved." Severus glanced at each of them. "Anything else?"

"No, I must be going. I'm woefully behind schedule," Minerva groused, rising from her chair.

Moody followed. "I'm off, too. Mustn't keep the biddies waiting."

Now that they had their assignments Severus willed them away, stifling his impatience at their awkward stances, their surreptitious glances at Harry filled with compassion. Minerva stretched out a hand and withdrew it, obviously unsure how it would be received. It wouldn't matter; the momentary distraction of their conversation over, Harry had already retreated within the renewed distress Severus could feel pulsing between their hands.

Moody's gaze travelled between them, his face softening in understanding. Taking Minerva's hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm, he steered her to the door with a quiet, "There's naught _we_ can do for the lad. Let's leave them to it."

The door had barely snicked close behind them when Severus stood, pulling an unresisting Harry with him. He walked them slowly over to a window seat out of sight from the portraits and settled him snug against his side, one leg thrown over his lap. With a heavy sigh, Harry burrowed his face into Severus' shoulder, one hand fisted in his robes. The tousled hair under his cheek tickled his nose, but he refused to loosen his tight hold to scratch it.

By gradual degrees the racking shudders under his hands subsided until Harry raised a face swollen and blotchy. Handing him a handkerchief, Severus summoned a glass of water, which Harry gulped greedily after blowing his nose. Banishing both the glass and the sodden cloth, Severus tipped Harry's head back and kissed him, a serious kiss, slow and smooth but with no hunger, no fire, merely a tender reaffirmation of everything he held dear about him - crying and all. When he would have pulled back, Harry buried his hands in his hair, tugging him closer, deepening the kiss with a clinging desperation. Severus tried to give him the reassurance he seemed to need, holding nothing back. Harry ended it abruptly, sagging against him, his head hung dejectedly.

"Need you," Harry said quietly, pleating folds into his robes. "So much."

"Then we have something in common," he said, moving a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. While normally a reserved man, he understood there were times when Harry just needed to hear aloud the things he held close to his heart, times when his confidence was so badly shaken his rare insecurities threatened to overwhelm him. Without a doubt, he knew this was one of those times, the signs since yesterday evening unmistakable. Framing Harry's face with his hands, he raised it and locked eyes with him. Fiercely he whispered, "No matter what you do, no matter what you say, no matter who you become, I will _always_ love you, Harry. I mean that as much now as I did twenty years ago, maybe more so as we've grown together. Please, love, never forget that."

The anguished lines around Harry's mouth eased, a bit of the sparkle returned to his eyes as he said, "I'll try not to forget. I love you, Severus," and he lifted his face to give Severus a single, lingering kiss. Folding him back in his arms, Severus gave him another and still more until with a contented sigh, Harry melted against him, his hands resting on Severus' chest.

Playing with the buttons on his old teaching robes, Harry murmured, "I just can't remember. Do you think you could see them better?"

Half-expecting the question, he asked, "Are you sure?"

Harry sighed. "You won't be distracted by my emotions and may recognize things and people I did not - or cannot."

All true, but that didn't mean he _wanted_ to do something so intrusive. "Very well," he said, shifting him slightly to make him more comfortable. When Harry snuggled his head into his shoulder, he asked, "Ready?"

Harry nodded and Severus closed his eyes, concentrating.

Gently, cautiously, he felt his way through their bond, fully aware that Harry was still partially blocking him, but less so than yesterday as the memories of the station were now open to him. With no small relief, Severus quickly saw that Harry's perceptions of what happened at the station were exactly as he'd said - a jagged kaleidoscope of swirling colour and confused sound, broken in so many places it was almost incomprehensible. But the events leading to the battle were clear and damning, and Severus understood all too well the horror and sorrow he could feel coursing through his mate's trembling frame. To view it second-hand was sickening; he could only weigh it against his own past to guess what it must have been like to actually witness it.

It was sometimes strange and wonderful to view life through Harry's eyes as he didn't always perceive things the way everyone else did. The _Schema_ flashes of wands, with their sparkling patterns and bright colours, were as beautiful and unique as the rare times Harry let him share his memories. However, for what they needed, these impressions and disconnected perceptions helped them not. Waiting until Harry was calm inside, he threaded his way amongst the various images, carefully employing the methods he and Harry had devised over the years to bring them into sharper focus. While he got more details before the battle, which only served to distress Harry further, the rest resolved into a hazy mess he couldn't decipher. Admitting defeat, he relaxed back against the pillow cushioning him from the stone wall, trying very hard not to think of their failure.

His voice a thin thread of sound, Harry said, "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologise. We both knew our chances of success were slim."

"I know, but I still feel bad about it," he replied, covering a wide yawn.

Severus settled deeper into the pillow until he was half reclining. Harry curled around him with another yawn. "Sorry. Sleepy."

"I can imagine." He stroked his hair. "It being Saturday, I've nothing pressing. You could nap here."

"With my spousal pillow?" He snuggled into 'his' spot. "Sounds lovely."

Not long afterwards, Severus found himself in the same position he'd been in last night: holding a lightly sleeping, twitching Harry while _he_ lay awake thinking and planning. As Harry was obviously going to miss his appointment with Kingsley, the first order of business after Harry awoke would be to Owl the man and tell him he'd examined Harry himself and there was nothing to add - for now. That should hold him off at least until tomorrow, if not Monday. Then there was the matter of Harry's clinic. If he was serious about closing it, then there were a few ideas he wanted to talk to him about. But only if Harry mentioned it again.

The third was potentially dangerous; he needed to contact Georg to see if Lucius had been by recently. There were some questions he wanted asked, and he needed to set up a regular contact schedule now that Lucius was finally moving; Malfoy was only one of Georg's seedier clients from whom he could potentially glean information. The fourth would prove difficult; he needed to hold onto his patience until Harry was ready to talk. The strong block he'd confronted earlier told him his spouse wasn't yet prepared to open a discussion. He sensed the missing information was somehow connected to that which he already knew; his continuing ignorance frustrated him immensely.

Which brought him to the last, more delicate item: Harry's abilities and his apparent ignorance of them. His fault, that. Remembering the hectic years after Albus' death, he deeply regretted he'd neglected Harry and their relationship most shamelessly as he'd wrested order from Albus' cheerful chaos. How many nights had they shared their nightcap, Harry almost bouncing in his enthusiasm as he related what he'd learned and seen during the day, while his own mind had wandered fretfully over the latest problem, the latest schedule? How many times had he dampened Harry's joy with his blatant inattention? How long had it taken before Harry had stopped talking altogether?

How many heartbeats had he lost when Harry finally failed to come home to him at all?

Severus shuddered, tightening his arms around his husband lying so lax and trusting against him. He'd been so blind and stupid taking for granted the only thing, the only person with any true meaning in his life. Even now, ten years after their crisis, he still felt the keen astonishment that Harry had returned. To him. To them. Eager to forgive and love him at a time when he deserved it the least. Since then, he'd endeavoured to never fall in such a trap again. He'd learned to delegate and trust those he'd chosen, leaving him more time and energy for their relationship. And while he'd not always been successful, he at least _knew_ when he'd failed and that awareness made all the difference.

He'd always known there'd be a price for his prior failure; it seemed he - they - would be paying it now, for he would have to dredge up that part of their lives in order to discover what he'd missed. He sighed; it was just another regret in a long line of them. Oh, he knew in the vaguest terms _who_ had taught Harry - after all, he'd suggested a few of the masters himself - but he obviously had no knowledge of _what_ Harry had learned; that bit about the wands had come as a complete surprise to him as did Harry's partial prevarication to the others about the scope of it. Why Harry felt it necessary, he hadn't a clue.

And that was the crux of his dilemma. He suspected his spouse's abilities could prove vital in the upcoming conflicts. The headmaster in him wanted to know what they were to exploit them, the husband in him would never do so; Harry was his spouse, not his minion. But would Harry recognize the difference? Not all of Harry's skills were to the 'good', useful perhaps, but so dark Harry refused to employ them. He trusted Harry's conscience in matters of this nature, but there was still the risk he could inadvertently push him over the thin line between light and dark if he didn't know where that line was drawn. They needed to talk, but with their bond fully open to prove his and the headmaster's sincerity.

Deciding there was nothing more to be done until Minerva and Moody reported back to him, he put it firmly aside, intent instead on savouring the lightly dozing body draped across him. Clearing his thoughts, he closed his eyes and rested.

He was half-asleep himself when Harry raised his head and asked quietly, "You were thinking hard. The things you asked of Minerva and Moody, do you think they will be enough?"

Blinking fully awake, Severus regarded him a moment. "I don't know, Harry. I just don't know. I miss Albus at times like these; I'm not the leader he was."

"And this is a bad thing?" Harry asked seriously, his hand stroking his chest. "You're honest and forthright, you're smarter and more devious than he ever was, yet you don't ask anyone to take risks without their full knowledge. Don't sell yourself so short, love. Hogwarts and the Environs have thrived under your guidance. I think your Slytherin cunning is exactly what the situation requires. And no one knows Lucius better than you."

"Thus speaks someone with no bias whatsoever," Severus said wryly, pulling Harry close.

But Harry wouldn't be drawn into his admittedly feeble attempt at humour. "Seems we're back to where we started. Healer or Soldier. Life or Death. When will it end, Severus?"

"Even the Orrery can't tell us that, love. And speaking of which, I want to see if your presence at the station was planned or not."

"I don't know how it could have been; even I didn't anticipate going there."

"I promised I wouldn't push, but your habits are just that. The possibility exists that you were manipulated into being in the right place at the right time. I admit the idea is far-fetched, but if I can think of it, so can Lucius. I just want to rule out the variables."

Harry shrugged. "It's your time; let me know what you find. I have to contact Jed and Sheila to see if they're all right and to tell them I'm closing the clinic. Then I guess I should call some of my contacts and see if I can find them both new positions. Oh, and I need to contact the lady who owns my building to tell her we're shutting down. And - shit! I have to talk to Perrin; he was going to come work for me, remember? Damn, there's so much..."

Severus stopped him with a fingers to his lips. "I thought about this while you were resting and, since you always nag-nag-nag about my workload, I was wondering if you thought Sheila might like to work here - for me - as my assistant. With her family in Hogsmeade, the commute would certainly be better and I promise not to abuse her too much."

Sitting up, his eyes shining with hope, Harry asked incredulously, "Are you serious, or are you just lusting after my secretary? They say the husband is always the last to know."

"No, I'm just trying to bribe _you_ into my bed," he said with a chuckle. "Of course I'm serious. Actually, I've been thinking about this for a long time, as you well know. I also had some ideas about you and Perrin - and Jed if you'd care to hear them."

The relief clear in his face and voice, Harry smiled. "Seeing how I'm still undecided about sleeping with you, I'm open to more bribery."

"Good," Severus said lightly, stealing a kiss. "I seem to recall a down-on-his-luck healer who might be able to take over the infirmary's expansion program. Our poor, beleaguered Artemis is a pale shadow of his former robust self trying to handle both it and his normal patient load."

"Well, we wouldn't want him fading away, now would we?" Harry teased.

"Of course, if that someone were to do so, he could run it any way he sees fit. Might even have the time, if he could find some willing partners, to take outside referrals on the side. Why, it could be just like a private clinic. If he were so inclined, that is."

Harry chuckled. "And this wouldn't have anything to do with - protecting - anyone, would it?"

"Never."

"Liar."

"You wound me." Harry raised a brow. "All right, perhaps just a bit."

"Perhaps a bit more," Harry said, leaning over to kiss him soundly.

When Harry eventually returned his mouth with a soft "I love you," Severus replied huskily, "I know." This was always the hardest part - letting him go. He pushed at him lightly. "Now move your sweet arse. I've got work to do."

"Yes, sir," Harry said with a mock salute. With little grace, he climbed out of the window seat. Severus was a bit slower, his limbs seemingly frozen from the inactivity. Harry watched him with a bone-melting grin. "Need some help, old man?" he asked, laughing.

He took Harry's proffered hand, changing his voice to a wavering whine. "Insolent brat. No respect for your elders. Why in my time, young men..."

Standing before him, Harry stopped his monologue with another kiss. "Thanks," he whispered, suddenly serious.

There really was nothing further to say, so he just demonstrated instead. He'd get started - just as soon as he was done.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

It was after sunset when he returned. Harry greeted him at the door to their quarters with an enthusiastic kiss and a curious, "Well?"

Hanging his heavy winter cloak on its peg, he replied, "It seems your presence at the station was pure bad luck on your part. Lucius intended a massacre, and that's a quote, so at least something good came out of it. He wasn't forthcoming about who was involved, though."

"And you discovered this how?" Harry asked with an arched brow as they entered the Rotunda.

"An old acquaintance runs a very private, very discreet establishment Lucius frequents when he needs to quench his baser appetites."

"Hmm. And Malfoy just - volunteered this information?"

"Let's just say my informant is well-versed in certain obscure, untraceable potions that may have loosened his client's lips a bit - and made him forget about it afterwards."

"How convenient. I take it the 'discreet' part means he doesn't do this very often?"

"Not if he wants to survive. Unfortunately, the most efficacious potion must be applied sparingly; I believe he doctors the lubricant. If dosed too liberally, the victim becomes violently ill which would be a dead give-away as to its usage, not to mention messy. As it limits the scope of an interrogation, one must be brief and specific. I asked two questions, there was only time for one answer."

Harry's forehead scrunched in puzzlement. "How'd you do that?" As Severus was about to answer, Harry stopped near the _Loquarium_, exclaiming, "How clever! You used the Orrery, didn't you?" When he nodded, Harry speculated, "You went to your informant in the past and asked him to ferret the information from Malfoy the next time he visited, then you went back 'today' and got the answer?"

Severus smiled; while not entirely accurate as he'd actually witnessed Lucius' 'confession', it was still a solid deduction considering he rarely talked about what he could do with the Orrery. "Close enough."

Harry beamed and they resumed their walk to the sitting room. "I'm curious, though. Why didn't you just use a Time Turner? It's certainly easier, not to mention safer."

Now was not the time for the full discourse on the vast differences between the two, so he opted for the most obvious. "The Time Turner is heavily monitored by the Ministry; the Orrery, which is a headmaster's secret, is not. Only you, as my spotter, and I know of it."

Severus had to laugh when Harry replied, "That's so Slytherin, it makes my Gryffindor side cringe. But why did Albus use you as a spy when he could have used the Orrery?"

Another very good question - and one he'd asked the old man. "He never stretched the Orrery's power in the direction I have."

Patently interested, Harry paused again in the entrance to the sitting room. "Oh?"

How best to condense nearly two years of hard work? "Albus was adept in Astrological Divination, the Orrery his tool to read the planetary portents much like a good Diviner reads tarot cards; his accuracy was just short of miraculous at times. With his _Schematamagus_ abilities he could also stop or capture time for short periods, although it was very dangerous to do so."

"So that's why Poppy scolded him so much," Harry mused thoughtfully. "She never did say, you know."

Severus chuckled. "One of many reasons, I'm sure."

Harry laughed appreciatively. "Too true. Considering you distrust Divination on general principles, can I assume you _don't_ read the future?"

"Indeed, no. When I failed doing it his way, Albus taught me how to bend it to my will, my unique talents. And once I succeeded, it wouldn't respond to him anymore; the Orrery will serve only one master at a time."

"Pity. Could have saved you some wear and tear."

"True," he answered drolly, "but I somehow don't think Albus' altruism would have stretched so far as to lose such an obvious advantage for the Order, just to spare a willing tool such as myself - even if he did consider me a friend."

Harry's sour face was an answer in itself. As they moved on, he was relieved when Harry changed the subject. "Want a brandy before dinner?"

"That would be pleasant."

As he gratefully sank on the sofa, Harry went to the alcove to pour their drinks. "I talked to Sheila while you were gone," he said, carrying in two lightly filled snifters, "and she said she's going to charge you an extra ten Galleons," he handed one to him, "every time you bark at her." He sat next to him on the sofa. "Oh, and I promised her a hideously high salary; she's sceptical, but I told her you were good for it."

The brandy went down smooth and easy. "Thank you. I think. When can she start?"

"I gave her a week to make all the necessary arrangements. I was going to do it, but when she started reciting this very long list of people I hadn't thought of contacting, I left her with it."

"Sounds sensible." He took another sip. "And I don't bark. I'm merely - assertive."

Harry snorted. "Right."

Rather than protest, Severus reached out an arm and pulled Harry over to lounge against him. He was tired both in body and soul. Harry's warm weight, the hand resting light on his thigh, the silky hair under his fingers and lips all served to ease his concerns and made this a quiet time, one to be savoured, hoarded against the future's uncertainty. He closed his eyes and let it take him for however long he could hold it.

Some unknown time later, a clock chiming dinner broke the moment. With a grunt, Harry sat up, but instead of rising, he twisted in place to face him. After draining the snifter in one go, he asked seriously, "A Pensieve won't work, will it?"

What the hell was Harry up to now? "No, it won't; any memories removed would be exactly as they are in your head."

Harry drew a deep breath before saying lightly, "Well, then, I guess we've not much choice then, have we? It's important we see as many details as possible if we're to be at all effective."

His heart pounded in dread as he realised what Harry was suggesting. "No," he stated flatly.

"No, as in, 'No, you're wrong?'"

"No, as in, 'No, I won't use _Legilimency_ on you.'"

With some asperity, Harry rejoined, "Severus, we're out of options."

"Harry," he mimicked, "we have an agreement about this."

His heated reply was almost a shout. "We're at war, damn it! We need the information locked in my head. We can't be choosy about what methods we use sometimes. We've tried everything else. There's nothing left."

It was like listening to himself at that age. And damn it, he was...

"You know I'm right, Severus," Harry said forcibly, his expression shifting to one of mute apology. Quieter, he added, "We've done this before - I know what to expect. It's the only way."

Yes, they had in Harry's seventh year, but he'd had less to lose then. To gather his memory, take it apart, slow it down, filter and reassemble it, and then store it into multiple memory globes was dangerous. "It's too risky. With that kind of retrieval, I could easily damage your..." He stopped with the fierce grin Harry gave him.

"We can't harm each other, remember?" The hand Harry placed on his cheek was warm and vibrant, his voice almost seductive. "I trust you, Severus. Absolutely, without question. And I know your skills; you have no equal." His hand threading through his hair, Harry kissed him, then pulled back, his gaze earnest. Enunciating each word clearly, he added, "It needs to be done."

The gods help him, he was actually considering it. With a sigh of resignation, he said, "I don't want to do this."

"I know," Harry said gently, the regret in his eyes telling him he understood his reluctance, but also that he was determined to see it through. "Come, we'll be late for dinner. We can ask Minerva and Moody to stand as witnesses, and afterwards you can send a report and a couple of globes to Arthur and Kingsley so they can view it for themselves. I'll even help with the paperwork."

Severus studied him a moment, unwillingly admiring how deftly Harry had manoeuvred him into agreeing to this madness. "If this is how you spend your free time, I not sure I should ever leave you alone again."

Leading him to the door, Harry said half-seriously, "See that you don't, then."

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

They cut dinner short and assembled in Severus' office just after seven. By mutual agreement they settled in the seating group, the fire blazing high. Dozens of magelights floated over the area, throwing the remainder of the room in semi-darkness.

Rearranging the chairs, Minerva and Moody sat to the side while he and Harry faced each other, knees almost touching. Saganth was dozing in his customary place on the stone flags under the hovering fire circle; Harry bent and touched his hand to the floor near him.

_There you go, Beautiful Ssscalesss. Your brother is nesssting warm and sssnug and I needsss to be alone._

Sleave immediately slithered off his wrist to tangle in her brother's coils. Harry chuckled when she hissed happily, _Oooo. Niccce. It isss sssummer hot here. It isss a good placcce to ssslumber, Massster._

_Let sssleeping sssnakesss lie,_ he quipped.

_Sss, yesss, sssleeping isss alwaysss good._

Straightening, Harry chuckled. "I'm glad you added the connection so they can come in here; they're both very fond of their space under the fire."

"I believe that was the point," he said banally, trying to fill the empty silence. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Are you ready to begin?"

"Actually, Severus, I have a request." The hesitant tone in his voice alerted him; Harry seemed nervous for the first time that evening. When he nodded warily, Harry asked, "May I borrow your Pensieve? I'd like to remove some memories containing patient information, just in case."

Interesting, but unexpected. Considering he wouldn't be concentrating on anything remotely related to Harry's patients, and that his spouse had often trusted him with such information before, he could only assume Harry wanted to remove the memories of whatever it was he'd been hiding recently. So be it. It was Harry's right to confess, if at all, in his own time and manner; he could understand why he'd loathe to have Severus stumble over his bare secrets without a proper explanation and perspective.

"Very well." Removing the ward from the right cabinet, Severus removed the stone bowl and, relocking the door, carried it over to the sideboard under the windows. Harry thanked him softly and plied his wand to his forehead, the first strand almost golden in the magelight.

While he waited, Severus idly noted it was a new moon, a powerful and pregnant time for change. As he had many times before, he wished he had Albus' talent to peer into the future; it might be useful to envision the possibilities before they occurred. But it could also be damning, frightening with what one could alter with pre-knowledge, a trap in which Albus had fallen. Thinking he could infallibly manipulate others into the future he wanted, Albus had only succeeded in creating one worse than that first seen. This alone had convinced Severus he was better off without it.

Harry paused. Thinking him finished, Severus moved to join him when, after some internal debate, Harry pulled two more. The differences in him as he placed the last one in the bowl was amazing. Colour returned to a face pale for so long, Severus hadn't really noticed it anymore; he stood taller, the hunch to his shoulders straightened. The fine lines of worry disappearing, his eyes cleared back to their normal calm confidence. _This_ was _his_ Harry and, once again, he wondered what was so dire that it could have wrought such changes.

But there was also a lingering air of hesitancy, his stance that of one who stood hopelessly alone, bereft of something vital. Suddenly unsure, Severus needed positive affirmation that Harry still wanted to carry through. Even with their bond and their trust in one another, _Legilimency_ teetered on the edge of violation; perhaps Harry was having second thoughts?

He crossed the small distance between them and took Harry's hands in his. "I don't want to do this."

"I know, but you will."

He brought those hands up to his chest. "I'm afraid I'll hurt you."

"I know, but you won't."

He kissed the fingers of one hand. "We could just leave this alone and not worry about it."

"I know, but we can't."

He cupped Harry's face. "You seem to _know_ far too much."

Eyes closed, Harry rubbed his cheek against his fingers and, with a small sigh, opened them, his gaze serene and untroubled. "The only thing I know of any importance is that I love you," Placing his hand over Severus', he turned his face to kiss the palm. "Beyond that, everything else is flotsam."

Although loving Harry had opened him in ways he would never have imagined in his youth, he'd always felt like an idiot incapable of original thought if he repeated those words back to him when already spoken. And tonight all the words he fervently wished he could utter stuck fast in his throat, carrying less weight than the cherished feel of soft skin under his hands, the tender press of lips upon those of his beloved. A simple touch to face and hair to define their reality, a simple kiss to quench their need, holding them in this place where mere words were never needed to reveal the fullness of their hearts.

Just one more moment and he would have to let go. One more kiss, sweet and chaste, to sustain him until later tonight. Longingly he took that kiss and, with a heavy sigh, led the way back to the chairs sitting in their oasis of seeming calm.

With Harry's decisive nod and steady eyes boring a hole right through him, Severus raised his wand with mixed feelings of regret and determination.

_"Legilimens!"_

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

FINIS Epithalamium  
Hiding Under the Ninth Earth continued in the stand-alone Chapter Three : Walking a Fine Line

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_IV-7. The general who is skilled in defence hides under the ninth earth; he who is skilled in attack flashes forth from the topmost heights of heaven. Thus on the one hand we have ability to protect ourselves; on the other, a victory that is complete._

_Sun Tzu, in "The Art of War"_

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Author's Notes:  
Thank you for your kind attention. A full timeline, references, character lists, and partial author notes will be soon be updated at my site, A Turn of the Page.

Just as life is never about one person, nor is a potion ever just one ingredient, _no_ story can _ever_ be the sole work of one author. And while one's life experiences are often poured onto the page, there are others who also lend theirs to it as well. I am blessed that so many people, with their comments and insights, helped with this story.

Jiltanith, Jessika-chan, Margaret, and Rainyshiny, thank you; your support means much to me and I miss your mails.

NB, welcome and thank you for slogging your way quickly through the series so you could add your timely comments; I desperately needed a 'Brit Picker', LOL.

Delphi, Epithalamium would be a much poorer work without your tireless translations and emotional insights; I only wish I could capture them the way you do.

Lydia Lovestruck, I can never repay your steadfastness and hand-holding through all 600,000+ words of this series; your _" --ack!'s"_ and _"I think you meant to's"_ and _"Awww's"_ were better than any college education could ever be, _--no comma_ G and certainly more fun.

Aseneth, what can I say? You're always there, always ready with a witty comment or sincere commiseration when I need it most.

And to my sugar-daddy, Haldolpoim: Kiss, kiss, hug, hug, practice, practice. Oh, yeah!

Thank you all.

Hang on, my friends, we've only reached the top of the hill.

I Got Tired of Waiting : January 2006  
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